She Hates You
by Queen Of Dead Hearts
Summary: Do you see that girl there? You don't know her, but she hates you.
1. Preface

**Preface**

She's sitting there, giving you the death stare even though you've never said two words to her. She hates you. You don't think you've ever done anything to her, but she hates you.

She hates everything. Absolutely everything.

She's perpetually apathetic unless she's angry. If you piss her off, you'll be begging for death pretty damn soon. She's never "apart" of anything and she's not your friend. She's a loner and only speaks when she has something sarcastic or morbid to say.

She can read your mind. She can hear your thoughts and see your dreams and relive your memories. And that's why she hates you. Because you exist. Because you force her into your own mind without realizing it. Because you make it impossible for her to have a real life.

She only has two emotions. Apathy and hatred. If she's angry, she'll show you by being cunningly cruel. She never raises her voice and she'll stare down anybody who thinks they can best her. She's brave because she's not afraid to die.

She's insightful because she knows what you're thinking, what everyone is thinking. She can tell you anything you want to know but she never will. She doesn't like anybody because she knows too much about them.

She's generally rude and flippant towards people, writing them off as insignificant because she knows what's going on in their shallow minds. Nobody can impress her or surprise her.

She can't stand anybody. Everybody irks her somehow. Either they're completely stupid and useless. Or they are mildly intelligent and waste it on shallow things. They all annoy her in one way or another.

When she arrives at her new school she isn't expecting much. She's too smart to even consider hoping for something better then her past schools. She doubts she'll ever find anybody she can stand, let alone respect as an equal. She knows she'll never find happiness. She knows that she'll always be alone.

But remember, she still hates you.


	2. Lost Girl

**Lost Girl**

"Amunet Lamorte?"

My new homeroom teacher, the dyed-blonde with the eating disorder and the color tinted contact lenses, called my name. Pronouncing it wrong of course. I rolled my eyes dramatically. Seriously though, how did some people get teaching licenses?

"It's pronounced Lamort. The _e _is silent," I corrected, making sure the venom and impatience was clear in my voice.  
"Oh, I'm sorry Amunet," she apologized.

When really, she was thinking, "_Spoiled little brat. Probably some private school transfer . . . Thinks she's better then everyone else . . ."  
_Like I gave a damn what she really thought about me. She was right anyway. I _was _better then everyone else.

"It's fine," I hissed, making it fully clear that it was not fine at all, quite the opposite really.  
Mrs. Brook cleared her throat, and then continued on with her attendance list. Exactly seventy two percent of the kids in the room were thinking about me just then:

_"Bitch"  
__"Ha, take that Mrs. Brook, shut down by the new girl. R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D."  
__"Wow, stuck up much?"_

Basically. When would people accept that I _was _stuck up. I _was _a bitch with no manners. I _was _sulky and annoying and egotistical. I accepted it a _long _time ago; why couldn't they? Why did they have to think about it every time they looked at me?

Luckily, all the thoughts shifted away from me a moment later. A boy walked in the door and by the sounds of it, he was a particularly hot topic of mental discussion in this school. I could see why. He was an attractive boy, which always gets attention, but that wasn't what made everyone take notice. It was that he was obviously, completely stoned.

His stormy grey eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red; I could see them clearly through the thoughts of a girl very close to the door. The area under his eyes was all pink. He was very pale but his cheeks had a faint flush to them. His shaggy dark brown hair with the dyed red tips was disheveled like he just rolled out of bed. He had track marks on his arm and the faint trace of cocaine on his lips.

Even to someone who _didn't _read minds it was obvious that this kid was very under the influence. He was most likely a heroin addict or something else that was typically injected. Although at the moment, I assumed he had taken cocaine orally. I knew all of this without reading his mind. I didn't even bother trying to peak into his mind to check my hypothesis. Trying to read the mind of someone who was high was like trying to listen to a radio in the woods; all meaningless static.

The guy stumbled in and then braced himself against the door frame. "Whoa . . ." he said, looking around like he in Wonderland or something.  
The students laughed.

"William," snapped the brain dead Mrs. Brooks, "Would you care to explain why you're late?"  
_"Would you care to explain why you're not in an ugly home?" _I thought. I seriously did not like this teacher.

"Late for what?" he asked, earning more muffled laughter from the class of juniors.  
"For _class_," she hissed.

"Oh well I was on my way . . . But then I got like distracted by this super colorful sign in the hall," he said, "It was like so colorful and stuff."  
He was as stoned as they come.

Mrs. Brooks sighed heavily. "Just go take your seat."  
"Take it where?" he asked, sounding completely serious.

"William," she warned.  
"Oh . . . You mean sit down. I got it, I got it," he mumbled, making his way over to his seat which just so _happened _to be next to mine. I'd chosen this seat specifically because it was next to a wall and an empty seat. Only now the seat wasn't so empty.

No-brain-Brooks began teaching and I sighed heavily at her failed attempts to explain trigonometry. I felt like I was in hell. The stoner kid sitting next to me was humming Christmas carols and I seriously wanted to strangle him.

I stared out the window aimlessly for the entire class, not even bothering to try and take notes or even pay attention in the slightest. School was a joke to me. Everything was a joke to me. Hell, my entire life was just one big joke and I was the only person who wasn't in on it.

When the bell rang, I gratefully picked up my unopened bag and headed for the door. I went to my next class, English Lit, and had another awful time. At least this teacher wasn't a complete idiot. He even pronounced my last name right; good for him. However, the class was still a drag, considering it was all about _Beowulf, _which I'd already read twice. I'd even seen the movie.

When it was finally over, I proceeded to my next class, the wonderfully dull physics. When I walked in the door the first thing I was aware of was the stoner kid again. He was lying across one of the tables on his back, his legs dangling over one side. He was talking with some poser scene chick and she was giggling like crazy. Partially because the guy she was having a conversation with was high and therefore talking nonsense, but also because she had a huge crush on him.

Unfortunately for me, I had to walk by that table to get to the teacher's desk and inform her that I was new. Keeping my head held high to keep from glaring at them, I walked past the desk. When I felt something poke my leg I whipped around furiously to face the guy lounging on the desk.

He was looking up at me from where he lounged on the desk. His red-rimmed, grey, stoner eyes looked up at me innocently. He looked curious and had somehow been _stupid _enough to dare to touch me.

Instead of snapping at him, I just stared at him with cool fury. Which of course, he was too high to notice.  
"Helloooooo new girl," he greeted me.

"Hello stoner kid," I returned curtly.  
"What's your name again? Max told me . . . It was something weird . . . Amulet?" he guessed.

"Amu_net_," I corrected icily.  
"Oh . . . Amunet. Net. Net. Net. Nettie . . . I think I'll call you Nettie," he decided.

"How exciting for you," I snapped before turning and walking away. The girl who'd been standing next to him, Kristy, glared at my back as she thought about what a bitch I was. And how I didn't even deserve to talk to Will, the stoner kid.

Without even looking back at her, I flipped her off. I smirked to myself at her outraged thoughts. She was thinking about how much she wanted to beat me up. Well she could try, but she wouldn't last five seconds against me considering I would know every move she was about to make before she made it. I would probably break her nose just for fun.

I knew that was improbable though. She was too fake to _actually _fight me. She would think about fighting people, and talk about fighting people. But she'd never fought anybody in her life, I knew. She was just a stupid poser who thought she could get through life by being a useless slut.

_"Good luck honey_," I thought_, "And by that I mean, go fuck yourself." _

My first two classes had been dreadful, but physics had been doubly dreadful. An entire forty five minutes of listening to Kristy-the-brainless-bimbo flirt with Will, who seemed to care more about the butterfly on the windowsill then her. Granted, his lack of interest in her was kind of amusing. I loved watching people try to get the attention of someone who totally just did not care.

I was grateful when it was over. I then went to my next class, music appreciation, which wasn't too horrible. The teacher, a former hippie who probably should've stopped passing around the peace pipe years ago, was pretty amusing. She talked all about how this century had the most diverse music and didn't have a set stereotype. In previous months they'd apparently learned about the music throughout the twentieth century in this class. I'd picked a good time to transfer. I only liked music that came out _after _I was born in most cases.

Next was government and I entertained myself by thinking of different ways I could kill myself. I absolutely _hate _government. Government was a fabulous idea, but it's unfortunate that most people don't have a clue how to run it. If I wasn't an anarchist, I would make a wonderful politician. _I _actually knew what had to be done to have a successful government.

After that I had lunch, which was my least favorite time of the day. For most students, lunch is the most anticipated part of school. But when you have no friends, it's a highly unenjoyable experience, especially considering the food is usually garbage.

I got myself a salad and an ice tea from the kitchen and picked a random table in the cafeteria to sit down at. I assumed that a 'click' had a claim on this table already but I didn't give a damn. I wasn't moving.

Just as I was opening my ice tea, two scene girls came over, looking steamed. One of which was the infamous Kristy. Of _course. _Because I'm just that lucky.  
"Can I help you two?" I hissed coldly at them when they continued to hover by me.

"Uh . . . excuse me _Amunet _but this is our table," said Kristy  
"I'm sorry, do you have proof of ownership," I snapped, "A deed perhaps?"

"Uh . . . no," said her friend, Juliet, who was equally as stupid and useless as her companion.  
"Then I'm going to have to kindly ask you to remove your hideous faces from my line of sight," I snarled in a sweet voice.

"But like we always sit here," Juliet said, confused.  
"Yes, we've established this. We've also established that I do not give a damn," I said, "So _go_."

"Since when do you get to decide who sits here?" Krystal demanded. She wasn't any smarter then her friend but she was considerably bitchier.  
"Well, you're free to try and physically move me," I said, taking a sip of my ice tea, "But I doubt that you will, seeing as you're both spineless whores."

They both mentally seethed at that. Now, for most of the conversation they were just confused by my vocabulary but most people know that being a 'spineless whore' is usually a negative thing. Despite their anger, they were still, as I pointed out, spineless.

"Bitch," was the best Kristy could come up with before the two walked away.  
"Goodbye wretched hags," I called cheerfully.

I sat by myself for the next twenty minutes, eating my salad and drinking my ice tea. I had put my headphones in and cranked up the volume on my IPod to full blast to keep out the constant noise of voices and thoughts in the crowded room. I felt nice and serene; listening to loud and angry music for a while.

Until something hard hit me in the back of the head causing me to spill the remainder of my ice tea on the table in front of me. I yanked out my headphones immediately and stood straight up. I whirled around furiously to see my new _best friends_, Juliet and Kristy, sitting with their friends at a table not too far from mine, laughing their brainless heads off.

Enraged, I was about to go over there and beat them senselessly, but then Will, the stoner kid materialized next to me. God, this kid was just all over the fucking place. He put a hand on my shoulder, which of course made me look at him in surprise.

_"You better move that hand kid unless you want to lose it,_" I thought.

"Nettie! Nettie! You got hit in the head with a cellphone!" he said urgently, like it was news to me.  
"I can see that!" I exclaimed angrily, swatting his hand away. I looked down at the floor to see a pink glittery cellphone. Heatedly, I bent over and picked it up.

"Please tell me this isn't your's," I said, looking at the horridly pink thing.  
"It's Kristy's. She threw it at you because she thinks you're a bitch. But it like looked like it went through your head! So I came over to see if you were alright," he informed me, obviously still quite high.

"Well thank you William for your concern," I hissed sarcastically, knowing he wouldn't pick up on it.  
"Is it broken?" he wondered.

"My head or the phone?" I asked, unsure due to his hazed mind.  
"Both," he said.

"Well, as you can clearly see, there is no hole in my head," I said, "And as for the phone, no. It's not broken . . . but it's going to be."  
Using all of my rage, I slammed the phone down on the ground as hard as I could. It snapped in too. I heard Kristy scream from her table and it made me smirk.

Leaving Will, and the phone, I marched over to her.  
"You-you whore!" she stuttered without getting up, "You broke my phone!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't go around throwing it at people's heads," I suggested curtly.  
"You-you're gonna wish you didn't do that!" she exclaimed in shock and anger.

"No I'm not. Because next time you mess with me, the phone won't be the only thing that's broken," I threatened before marching away. I went back to my table and grabbed my stuff. Stoner kid was still there, staring at the ceiling.

"Goodbye William," I said.  
"Bye Nettie!" he called as I walked away, leaving him and the spilled ice tea. Neither of which were my problem.

I left the building then, deciding to go home. It was my first day of school and I was already ditching. Not like it mattered. All of my core classes were in the morning, so I was just missing pointless electives I'd been forced to take.

I began to walk back to my new house before I killed somebody. I'd always hated school but this place was God awful. At my past schools, most kids wrote me off as quiet and didn't talk to me. And those who did, realized I was a major bitch and didn't make the same mistake again. I'd never been to a school where everybody was so in my face. Pesky stoner kids, spiteful slutty posers, and brain dead teachers. What a lovely assortment.

I already hated it here.


	3. Lonely Girl

**Lonely Girl**

I rubbed my temples irately and moaned. I was sitting in trigonometry the next morning, contemplating strangling myself with the American flag and then bludgeoning brainless-Brooks with the flag pole. I'd only been in this room for about four minutes and I already wanted to throw myself out of a window. A very high one preferably. Sadly though, this room was on the first floor.

The thoughts of everyone around me were nauseating at this point. Everyone at this school was either petty or horribly troubled. Each was bothersome in their own way. I tried as hard as I could to tune out all the mental voices but it wasn't working. I'd had little luck blocking people out at this new school. It was like everyone's thoughts were shouting at me, begging for me to hear them.

And hear them I did. I didn't enjoy hearing them but I did. The girl by the door, Pam, was mulling over how ugly and unworthy of love she was. While the boy behind me, Jason, was dreading going home; knowing that his father was literaly going to beat him when he saw his report card. A kid in the back, Vince, was daydreaming about his girlfriend as a stripper. Mrs. Brooks, sitting at her desk up front, was fawning over her reflection in her compact. And the kid next to me, Will . . . Well he wasn't thinking anything that I could decipher. But he was humming _Frosty The Snowman _to himself. Which was nearly as annoying.

"Now students," said Brook-the-brainless-wonder, closing her compact, "I'd like you to compare your answers on last night's homework with the person sitting next to you. I'll be back in a minute. I have to use the restroom. Now behave, I could be back at any moment. So no fooling around."

Actually, she was the one fooling around. She was about to get it on with the gym teacher in his office, and probably wouldn't be back for close to twenty minutes. But of course, nobody else knew that.

She left and the volume of the room doubled. Not only were the thoughts loud now, but so were the voices. I moaned again, placing one of my ice cold hands to my forehead. I sighed heavily in slight relief as I closed my eyes.

"Nettie," came a nearby voice accompanied by a poke to my arm, "Nettie, Nettie, Nettie, Nettie."  
I dropped my hand from my forehead and my eyes sprung open. I turned slowly to face the kid sitting next to me, Will. He was leaning out of his seat, poking me.

"William," I said through clenched teeth, "If you don't stop poking me I swear to God I will stab you with this pencil."  
He looked up at me through his overgrown bangs. "Hi," he said hyperly.

I rolled my eyes. I'd met three years old more mature then this guy. Then again, I was sure the meth he was doing contributed to his lack of attention span.  
"Hi," I said acidically.

"Does your head hurt?" he wondered.  
"Why should it?" I snapped.

"Because you got hit with a phone yesterday."  
Oh right. That. "No," I said, "It's fine."

"Oh good . . . So do you like candy?" he wondered.  
I rolled my eyes again. Fucking stoners . . . "Doesn't everybody?" I asked cynically.

"Do you like _Snickers_? I love _Sncikers_. Do you want some?" he wondered, pulling a _Snickers _bar out of his bag.  
"No thanks," I muttered, "I'm not hungry."

"Okay," he chirped happily, putting it back into his bag. I gave him a weird look. He had to be the most hyper guy I knew. Even if he _was_ on drugs. He was like a cheerleader cross bred with the energizer bunny . . . on crack.

"I'm just going to take a lucky guess here and say that you didn't do last night's homework," I said. I knew that was the only reason he was probably talking to me. We were supposed to compare answers with the person sitting next to us and since he was the only person next to me . . . Well his drugged mind must've managed to do the math.

"I did it," he said, taking a piece of paper out of a folder with a pink animated bunny on it. Only someone had taken black sharpie and drawn fangs and horns on the bunny. And a penis. And had it stabbing Mrs. Brooks with a pitch fork. How pleasant . . . Okay, I admit, I kind of did like that last part.

He handed the piece of paper to me and I looked it over. Once I got past the doodlings of unicorns and penises, I was actually able to see that all of his answers were right. I was thoroughly surprised.

"They're all right," I mumbled, handing it back to him, "Don't bother checking mine. They're all right."  
"Okaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy," he drew out the word.

He was silent for oh, about thirty seconds. Before he started singing. Again.  
"I feel pretty . . . Oh so pretty. I feel charming. So charming. It's alarming how charming I feel," he sung.

I gave him a sideways look. "Are you by any chance gay?" I wondered.  
"Nope," he said, popping his lips on the p, "I'm a big fan of the boobies."

"Alright then," I said, "Just checking."  
"Hey Billy!" called a guy from across the room and Will looked up. I guess that Billy was another nickname of his.

"What? Can't you see that I'm busy man?" he demanded as the guy, Mike, came over.  
"Doing what?" he asked.

"Counting all the different colors on the ceiling," he said simply, staring up.  
The Mike guy and I both simultaneously looked up.

"Dude," he said, "The ceilings only one color."  
"No it's not," Will disagreed, "It's blue, and red, and yellow, and purple . . . and blue, and red, and yellow."

The Mike guy laughed and perched himself on my desk. "The fuck did you take this morning dude?" he asked.  
"Hey _dude,_" I snapped sarcastically, "Get your butt off my desk."

"And who are you?" he asked, looking at me like he'd never seen me before. His thoughts conveyed that he had no memory of me whatsoever.  
"That's Nettie," Will chimed in, "She's cool . . . Like legit. She's like the most bitchinest bitch ever. I mean, her hair is blue!"

"Okay, now I'm concerned," Mike said, "Her hair is obviously not blue."  
Will squinted at me and then pulled away and shook his head like he had a headache. "I gotta stop coming to school high . . ." he mumbled, sounding completely unlike how he did earlier. Maybe he was finally coming down.

"That makes two of us," his friend said, sliding off of my desk just as Mrs. Brook returned. She looked reasonably normal, unless you knew that you were looking for something off. The bottom button of her blouse was undone, which it hadn't been before. She also had been wearing a pearl necklace before, which she no longer was.

She had called the class to attention and then gotten working on a horridly boring lesson. She went over the homework, which was completly lost on the entire class, and even me too. I noticed Will drawing on the back of his bunny folder in sharpie.

Minutes after Brooks finished going over the homework, the bell rang. Gratefully, I got up and gathered my stuff. When I passed Will's desk I caught sight of his newest doodling on the back of his folder. It was of Mrs. Brooks . . . being attacked by numbers . . . and muffins.

_"Crazy stoner," _I thought. Well, even if he was completely twisted, at least he was a good artist.

In my next class, English, we watched _Beowulf_. Which should _have _meant that I got to take a nap. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Two minutes into the movie, the senior guy behind me, Mathew, began picturing every female in the class naked. Just to entertain himself. By the time he got to me I was already sick to my stomach. And when he imagined me making out with the girl sitting next to me, I had to stop myself from getting up and punching him.

When the class ended, I bolted out of there as fast as my legs could take me. Once I escaped Mathew's thoughts, I sighed gratefully. I went to my locker and got my physics book before heading for my science class which just so happened to be on the other side of the building.

I was unpleasantly unsurprised to find Kristy and Will sitting on the floor by their shared desk, talking and sharing a _Snickers _bar.  
_"That's my fucking Snickers bar bitch," _I thought. Will had offered it to me first. If only she knew that. She'd be jealous. Stupid, petty whore.

Unfortunately, I had to walk by them to get to my desk. Kristy put out her foot to trip me but I of course saw it coming. I lithely hopped over it and then spun around to glare at her.  
"I thought I told you to leave me alone," I snarled, "Or did you get distracted by something shiny."

"Why don't you just run along and go read alone little dyke," she snapped.  
"I believe you've kissed one too many girls to be calling anybody a dyke," I hissed.

Yeah, that's right. I knew _all _about the times she'd kissed other girls in front of guys she liked because for some bizarre reason guys were attracted to that.

She just stared at me. Her mind racing in surprise.  
"Whore," was the best she could come up with.

"The girl whose taken more pregnancy tests then math tests is calling _me _a whore?" I demanded, "Seriously?"  
"Whatever. Just leave us alone," she snapped.

"You're pathetic," I said icily, "You spend all of your time panting after guys who don't give a fuck about you and trying to make other people feel bad about themselves. When really, you're the one who feels bad about yourself. You feel like you have to make other people feel bad to feel good."

She was stunned by my words for a minute. She didn't say anything. Neither did Will. But that was probably because he wasn't paying attention. He was watching a dust mote dance in the air in front of him like it held the secrets of the universe.

"The girl with no friends is calling _me _pathetic?" she finally said.  
"That's a cool word," Will suddenly jumped in, "Pathetic. Paaaaaaathetic. Pathhhhhhhhetic. Tic. Tic. Tic tak. Tic tok, tic tok, tic tok. Tok, tok, tok."

I stared at him for a moment while he moved his head back and forth to the beat of a swinging pendulom.  
"Tik tok, tik tok, tik tok," he continued for another minute.

"Alrighty then. Enjoy your meal you two," I hissed sarcastically, turning on my heel and walking away. I headed over to my desk in the back of the room and sat down alone while I waited for the teacher to show up. She was always late to this period because she had to go off of school property to go smoke.

I didn't even bother to try and tune out the thoughts of my classmates at this point. It was too much work and it was futile. I was stuck listening to these people's inner thoughts. The boy in front of me, Thomas, was stressing about the math homework he hadn't done last night. While the girl behind me, Heather, was thinking about me actually; wondering whether or not she should try and befriend me. I voted for the latter. Meanwhile, up front, Kristy was sizzling over our conversation. Will was currently wondering aloud about how they got the little people _inside _of the TV.

If this was what all people were like, then I was glad I didn't have any friends.


	4. Popular Girl

**Popular Girl**

I propped my head up with my hand and huffed a sigh. In front of me, Will was sitting in Mrs. Brooks swivel chair, going through her desk and eating a _Snickers_. His friend Mike was leaning against the desk, texting his girlfriend and chewing gum obnoxiously. Mrs. Brooks had left again on one of her rendezvous with the Coach in his office, and the class had descended to anarchy.

I was trying to read a book but couldn't. I was doing my best to ignore Will and Mike but found that I couldn't. It was impossible. They were both just too loud. Mike with his thoughts about his girlfriend and Will with his verbal ramblings.

"Mike," he said, "Where do you think Mrs. Brooks goes when she says she's going to the bathroom and doesn't come back for twenty minutes?"  
He almost sounded sane just then . . .

"Dunno," Mike muttered, shrugging, his thoughts focused on his girlfriend.  
"Well _I _think she's contacting the mother ship and giving them an update so they can know when to release their evil army of alien mutant bunnies," he said.

Now _that's _the Will I know and has been driving me insane for the last week.

"Dude, what is it with you and bunnies?" Mike asked.  
Bunnies and _Snickers_ . . . A reoccurring theme with Will.

He shrugged, toying with Mrs. Brooks' glass dolphin figurine. "They're watching you, you know," he told him.  
Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head but didn't say anything. His thoughts conveyed that this was a norm for Will. I'd noticed the same.

"What's that?" Will asked, his eyes on the book in my hands. The one I'd been _trying _to read.  
"Well it's about time somebody told you Will," I said sarcastically, "This is a book. You may have seen one before."

"What kinda book?" he wondered, "Is it about alien bunnies?"  
I rolled my eyes. "Believe it or not Will, there are not that many books about alien rodents."

"I think I'll write one . . ." he contemplated, "And the main character will be named Truffles . . . No, no. Wait. Snuffles! A mutant bunny named Snuffles."  
"Brilliant idea Will . . ." I muttered sarcastically.

"Hey Mike," Will said, "I think Nettie should sit with us at lunch_. _She supports my creative genius unlike any of _you_."  
Internally, Mike was annoyed. He was thinking about how Will needed to lay off the weed and stop talking to a freaky little nobody like me.

But of course, he didn't verbalize all that. From what I'd heard, Will was not only the most popular guy in school, but he also had quite the temper. And Mike was smart enough to know that if he pissed Will off, he wouldn't be sitting at the "cool table" anymore. See, even the popular kids use their brains now and again.

"Billy, you're an artist. Not a writer," was all he said, "Accept that."  
Will ignored that and turned back to me. "You can sit next to me Nettie," he said, his childlike eyes sparkling with excitement. Or that could be the meth getting a second wind.

"I don't think your fan club would very much like me sitting there," I said, "It seems that they . . . hate me."  
Granted, I brought it on myself by being a total bitch. But perhaps if they weren't so hateful and stupid, I wouldn't be so bitchy. Ever think of that?

"I'll make them promise to be nice," he told me, "Under penalty of death by bunnies."  
I laughed once and rolled my eyes. This kid was so mental.

"Fine. But the first person to hit me with a phone, looses a hand," I warned.  
What can I say? It's impossible to argue with someone as deluded as Will.

"Yay!" he exclaimed and then for no apparent reason, _slammed _Mrs. Brooks glass dolphin on the floor, causing it to shatter into a million tiny pieces.  
I stared at it, along with Mike.

"Dude," he said, "Why the fuck did you just do that?"  
"I think he wanted to die," Will said solemnly, blinking his large eyes innocently.

"You are so retarded . . ." Mike muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  
"I am _not _cleaning that up," I said.

"Neither am I," Mike said half a second later.  
We both looked at Will then. He didn't seem to notice our looking though. He was just staring out into space.

"Will," I said, snapping my fingers at him, "Clean this up."  
"Clean what up?" he asked.

"The glass," I told him, rolling my eyes.  
He looked down at the glass on the floor for a moment. "I didn't do that," he told me with a straight face. Then again, he talked about alien bunnies with a straight face too.

"Yes you did," I insisted, "Like five seconds ago."  
"Well I don't remember doing that," he said stubbornly.

"We _saw_ you," I said.  
"Oh my God, the mutant bunnies must of tapped into my brain!" he exclaimed, gripping at his hair.

_"Or the weed did," _Mike thought.

"There is something deeply wrong with you . . ." I muttered.  
"It's always the nonbelievers who go first," he informed me.

I rolled my eyes and wondered how this kid got dressed in the morning.

Lucky for us, Mrs. Brooks never came back. The bell rang and we were all set free. I went through the rest of the morning like I'd been doing for the last week. I feel asleep in English, tried to ignore Kristy's hostile thoughts in Physics, enjoyed myself in music appreciation, and contemplated suicide in government. Things got a little more interesting when I got to lunch though.

I was heading over to my usual table to go sit by myself with my salad and ice tea in hand, when Will came up to me. He was looking at me excitedly with his stormy grey, bloodshot eyes. "Come on Nettie," he said happily, "I saved you a seat next to me."

Well, I did promise the kid. "_Damn it," _I thought.

"Fine," I sighed, "But remember what I said about the lose of limbs."  
He furrowed his brow and looked confused for a moment before recovering, smiling, and saying, "Okay!"

He led me over to the "popular" table then. The people present were scene, stoners, underachievers, future felons . . . Real good role models obviously.  
"Guys this is Nettie," he introduced me, "She's apart of the intergalactic alliance of mutated bunnies. She's their _leader._"

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "_Here we go again."_

For the most part, his friends stared at me like I was a science experiment. I knew all of them. They didn't know that my real name was actually Amunet, but I knew their whole life stories. The perks of being a mind reader.

There was Aaron the "super hot" emo kid with the piercings, the dyed hair, and the skinny jeans. The whole nine yards. He played guitar in a screemo band, got a new piercing every month, and worked at _Spencers. _He did drugs sometimes but never cut his wrists. He lost his virginity when he was fourteen and his mother was a cranky alcoholic while his father was a workaholic.

There was Mike, the slacker. He dressed in ripped jeans and stained t-shirts. He liked to wear his hood up and listen to his IPod during class. He never did his homework and he was lucky to have made it to his senior year. His mom died when he was a baby and his dad didn't give a fuck about him. He didn't plan on going to college and the only thing he cared about was his girlfriend, Heather.

Heather was the girl who had thought about coming up to me on my second day here. She was kind of shy around this crowd. She'd been initiated into the group by Mike and wasn't too comfortable here yet. She loved Mike, just as much as he loved her, but she really didn't feel like she belonged with his friends. She had a normal family life and was a good student. The only one of Mike's friends that she liked was Will. The girls scared her.

Then there was Krysty or "super bitch" as she was more commonly refered to. I understood how she got that title. She was one bitchy scene slut. She wore _Hello Kitty _t-shirts, laughed too much, and dyed her hair a different color every week. She felt the need to make fun of people who weren't like her because secretly, she didn't think she's good enough. She needed guys to validate her existence, and currently, she was into Will. She would steal his things to get his attention, and complain about her clothes so he'd notice how reveling they were. She was your basic attention deprived child turned attention whore.

Her second in command was Juliet. The stupid scene girl. Kristy was bitchy but at least she wasn't quite as stupid as Juliet. Mike was lazy, but Juliet was just _stupid. _If you locked her in a mattress store overnight, she'd probably sleep on the floor. She was the kind of person you expected to find out got hit by a parked car. She didn't have any family issues or anything. She was just stupid.

And then there was Will. And I knew nothing about him.

"I asked her to sit with us," he added.  
It took another second for them all to unthaw.

"Hi. I'm Heather," Heather was the first and only one to introduce herself.  
Will smiled to himself triumphantly and sat down. I did the same.

"I'm Amunet. Even though _Will _insists on calling me Nettie," I said, giving him a pointed look.  
"That's a pretty name," she said.

"Yeah," Kristy jumped in, her voice a sarcastic sneer, "Is it like Indian or something?"  
"Egyptian," I snapped at her, trying to keep my voice under control.

"You're Egyptian?" Heather inquired.  
"Yeah. On my mother's side," I told her.

"I can see it," she said, "The skin and the hair. You have really pretty hair."  
"Thanks," I mumbled. A normal person would've complimented her hair. But I wasn't normal.

"So what're we gonna do t'night?" Aaron asked suddenly.  
"Heather and I are goin' out for pizza," Mike said, putting his arm around her, "And none of you dumbasses are comin' along."

Aaron turned to Will. "So Billy, what we doing tonight then?"  
Will shrugged looking down at his hands as he moved his fingers in motions that resembled the "Itsy Bitsy Spider."

"Well I 'aint staying at my house tonight," Aaron said, "My mom just got laid off and she's gonna be on the war path."  
"Sucks for you," Kristy muttered, sipping her decaf latte daintily.

"My mom is such a bitch. Why couldn't she just be a nice hooker," he said, "Like Will's mom."  
Unexpectedly, Will chucked his empty can of soda at Aaron's head. "Shut up," he muttered in a very un-Will manner. Seeing as it didn't pertain to bunnies or alien abductions.

"Ow!" Aaron complained, rubbing his head, "That fucking hurt."  
"Then how about you stop talking about my mother?" he suggested snappishly.

I studied him for a moment. He didn't look good. His cheeks were flushed and he looked pale. His hands were shaking.  
He exhaled deeply and got up. "I'll be right back," he said before departing, abandoning me with his friends.

I really wanted to ask if Will's mom was really a hooker, seeing as nobody's thoughts were giving me a straight answer. But I couldn't swallow my pride to ask another person a question. I was just too used to having all the answers that it drove me crazy to ask questions.

"So Nettie," Aaron said, "What's your deal?"  
"My deal?" I repeated. I knew what he meant, I was just challenging his vocabulary.

"Yeah. Like okay, you're like really hot. Or at least I think you could be," he tried to explain, "But you dress like a homeless person and you're really bitchy towards like everyone. Why?"  
Heather whispered to Mike to say something. She was worried that Aaron was going to hurt my feelings.

Per his girlfriend's request, Mike swatted Aaron and gave him a look that he ignored.  
"Even if I told you Aaron, you wouldn't believe me," I muttered.

Kristy was about to comment but I was saved from hearing her hateful remark when Will returned. He sat down next to me and I immediately knew that he had taken another hit of something. His grey eyes were even more bloodshot and the pink shadows under them were severe. There was some white powder on the side of his mouth, informing me that he had just taken some cocaine.

"Feeling better?" Kristy asked sweetly, giggling.  
"Oh yeah totally," he said, bouncing hyperly, "I'm like so happy!"

They say that you can't buy happiness . . . But you can buy drugs. And I guess for Will, that's the same thing.


	5. Unlucky Girl

**Unlucky Girl**

It was Friday. School had ended thirty minutes before but I was still there. My locker had gotten jammed and it had taken me ten minutes to find a janitor and then convince him to stop mopping the fucking floor and come help me. And then it had taken him another twenty minutes to open my stupid locker. Not to mention, I'd forgotten money for lunch that day, so I was starving. So all and all, I was not feeling very merry. I headed for the exit in an increasingly foul mood, partially due to the thoughts on the other side of the door.

I stepped out of the door to find Will and his crowd loitering about the front steps. Heather had Mike backed up against the wall next to the door, while they whispered gross lovey-dovey things to each other. Juliet was sitting on the bottom step, squeaking and spazzing because she got gum in her hair. Kristy sat next to her, trying to help her get it out, but secretly she was miffed because this was taking away from her precious Will time. Aaron was leaning up against the railing, smoking a cigarette despite the fact that he was on school property.

Lastly was Will, who was of course in a seemingly random position, like he always was. He was like a cat. He liked to just kind of lounge about like he was at home no matter where he really was. He was sprawled out across one of the steps on his back, seeming to be playing peek-a-boo . . . by himself. He would cover his eyes and then move his hands and then look surprised like he hadn't expected the sky to still be there.

I cursed myself mentally. If I hadn't been so pissed, I would've remembered that this was their hang out after school, and couldn't have used one of the other exits. But of course, I'd been too mad about the late thing to pay attention to the voices in my head.

I really, really did not want to be there just then. Sure, I'd sat with these guys during lunch for the past few days, but that didn't make us friends. Will liked having me around for some reason, most likely because I was the only girl he could torment and get a response out of. Most of the girls he annoyed probably just giggled because he was "so hot." Yeah, give me a break.

Will uncovered his eyes again just as I took the first step down.  
"Nettie!" he exclaimed.

"Not now Will," I warned, knowing he would just ignore me, "I'm not in a good mood."  
_"When are you," _thought Aaron, exhaling smoke. Yeah, that's real attractive.

"Come on Nettie! We were just gonna go Christmas caroling," Will went on as I took a few more steps so that I was standing on the one just above him.  
"Not on your life kid," Aaron muttered.

"I have to go home Will," I told him.  
"Well I'm not moving. Now you'll never escape! Mwhahahah!" he said, tapping the tips of his fingers together like an evil villain.

"Or I could just jump over you," I suggested.  
"If you do I'll send my army of evil mutated hamsters after you," he threatened.

"Hamsters? What happened to the bunnies?" I mocked.  
"No, no, no, no. I would never send my bunnies out on such an amateur mission," he said, rolling _his_ eyes _at me_, "They're specially trained."

"Mhm. Sure they are," I said sarcastically.  
"Come on Nettie," he complained, "Just stay for a little while."

"Will, I am _starving. _And If I don't get food soon, someone is going to die," I warned.  
"If you stay I'll give you half of my _Snickers _bar," he negotiated.

My stomach growled at the mention of food.

"Fine," I muttered, sitting down on the step above of Will's and putting my bag down next to me, "But I'm not happy about it."  
Will reached into the bag he had lying on the step below and pulled out a _Snickers _bar. He really did love those. He ripped off the wrapper, split it in two, and gave me a piece.

I hated him for tricking me into staying by bribing me with food. The little bastard.

"Hey Billy," Aaron said, holding his cigarette between two fingers, "What're we doing this weekend?"  
Will shrugged. "I don't know what _you_'re doing . . . But I'm not gonna be here . . . I'm - I'm going somewhere . . . Where am I going?" he struggled to remember, "I know I'm going somewhere . . . Oh yeah, I have to go to my dad's this weekend."

"Not cool," Aaron complained, bringing the ciggarette back to his lips.  
"Aw," Kristy whined, "You're gonna miss my party tomorrow."

"Not my fault," Will muttered "Custody agreement."  
So Will's parents were divorced . . . Interesting.

"Oh fine," she huffed, "But it's not gonna be as much fun without you."  
The fun she had in mind was going to make me sick, so I immediately tried to tune her out. So to keep my mind from wandering subconsciously back to her thoughts, I focused on something nearly as disgusting; the love fest Mike and Heather were having in the corner. It was completely nauseating in that cutsey romantic way. If I heard the word 'love' one more time I was going to be sick.

"I'm done," I said, getting up, "I'm going now."  
"Joy kill," Will accused as I hopped over him and descended the stairs.

"Story of my life," I retorted as I walked away, towards the parking lot. I approached my Chrysler Aspen and got in. It was a big black SUV that was much too superfluous for someone like me, but there was no arguing with my mother.

I drove back to my new home, the Victorian styled two story house with the four bedrooms, all granite kitchen, three bathrooms, and currently useless inground pool due to the fact that it was December. I parked in our three car garage, next to my mom's crossfire and an empty spot.

I closed the garage with the click of a button and went into the house. Inside, it was nice and warm. I sighed gratefully. I could hear my mother's thoughts coming from the living room. She was putting ornaments on the Christmas tree.

I put down my bag and followed her thoughts to her. In our living room was a large evergreen that filled the whole room with the scent of pine. My mother was crouched on the floor, sifting through a box of ornaments. She was dressed in a knee-length black pencil skirt and purple blouse with her dark hair in a sleek ponytail. Our Collie, Lila, lay curled up on the floor next to her, sniffing the cardboard box.

"There you are Am," my mother said, "I was going to wait for you, but I have a meeting with a client . . . So I figured I'd get started without you."  
Using my mind reading powers I knew that she was telling the truth. I knew she hated that I could read her mind. It made parenting hard. Seeing as she couldn't lie to me.

"It's fine," I said, coming over and kneeling next to her, "I stayed after to talk to some . . . friends."  
"Friends?" she repeated, shocked. She knew that I hated most people.

"I know. Shocking. But this one Will kid refuses to leave me alone," I told her.  
"Maybe he likes you," she suggested, putting an ornament on the tree.

"Funny Mom," I said, "Hysterical."  
"I'm serious. You're very pretty Amunet," she told me.

"Like that matters when you're a mind reading freak," I muttered sourly.  
"Oh Am," she sighed, petting my hair lovingly when her phone suddenly went off. She stood up straight and answered it. It was her client. They had to push the meeting up. Of course.

She closed the phone when she finished her conversation and said, "I'm sorry Am-"  
I put a hand up to stop her. "I know. It's fine. We can do it later."

She smiled gratefully and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll see you when I get back."  
With that, she left and I could hear her guilty thoughts all the way to the car.

I sighed and patted Lila's head before going upstairs and into my new room. I couldn't help but stand in front of my full length mirror for a moment, thinking about what my mom had said. Was I pretty? I wasn't sure. People often said it and they often thought it, but I still wasn't sure.

I looked at myself and I just didn't see it. Okay, so I didn't actually do anything to accent my looks in anyway. At the moment, I was dressed in black skinny jeans and a dark grey pea coat, underneath which was a flattering black button up blouse. I never really wore anything sexy to accent my tall, willowy body. Over my almond shaped dark eyes I wore black square glasses, and I kept my long black hair in a bun most of the time.

I sighed heavily. My life should've been perfect. I was pretty, or had the potential to be. I was smart, extremely smart. I had a good family, well I had my mom and that was I needed. And I was rich; not a billionaire but I was defiantly upper class.

And if I wasn't a mind reading freak, I could've actually enjoyed all that.


	6. Quiet Girl

**Quiet Girl**

The following Monday, something unexpected happened to me. And that was the most unexpected part of it.

I was running late that morning. Or, at least I thought I was running late. My mother had left for work so early that I'd been so deeply asleep, that her thoughts didn't penetrated my mind like they usually did. That was how I woke up most mornings.

I could've gotten to school on time, had it not been for the insane amounts of snow. It was coming down like crazy and I had to drive extra slow, just to be safe. By the time I arrived at school, it was probably almost ten. The parking lot was empty.

_"What the fuck?" _I thought, turning off my car and hopping out. I rubbed my black gloved hands together and decided to go see what was going on. I went up the front steps and tried the front door. It was locked. I peered inside and saw that it was dark. What the fuck was going on?

"School's closed," came a dreary voice.

I spun around, taken completely off guard. Standing there at the foot of the steps, leaning against a railing, was Will. He had a _Northface _jacket on and a black beanie over his head. He had his hands in his pocket, looking completely relaxed. I stared at him in shock. First of all, I'd nearly had a heart attack because I wasn't used to be taken by surprised. Usually I could just hear someone's thoughts if they were nearby.

_"He must be high," _I reasoned with myself. But then . . . Why didn't he seem like himself? He seemed very . . . laid back. The normal Will would've been ranting about bunnies and hitting me with snowballs. He must've taken something to bring him down instead of up. Maybe heroin, I guessed.

"Jesus Christ Will, you nearly gave me a heartattack," I gasped.  
"Sorry," he said, his voice bleak.

"If school's closed, what're you doing here?" I asked.  
He shrugged, walking up the snow covered stairs and sitting down on the top one. "I had no where else to go . . ." he mumbled.

It was a strange response, but then again, he _was _on drugs. So maybe it wasn't really that strange.

I sat down next to him, compelled to see what Will was like when he was on heroin, as opposed to what he was like on cocaine. I couldn't help it. I was curious.  
"What're you doing here?" he asked, "I thought you of all people would know that school was closed."

What he meant by that, I did not know. And I doubted that I ever would.  
"Well I didn't," I said.

It was quiet for a moment between the two of us. Will was staring out at the snow covered, deserted street. He was somber and quiet. I found myself studying him with intrigue. I was interested in this side of Will. Well this side of Will's drug addiction. His eyes weren't bloodshot, but there were dark tired circles under his eyes. He seemed pale, probably from the cold, and had a dark bruise on his cheek, standing out stark against the white.

"How did you get that bruise?" I wondered.  
"I fell down the stairs on Saturday," he said.

"Sounds about right for you," I decided.  
He gave me a look. "Well every time you've seen me before, I've been high," he said, "I'm not as much of an idiot when I'm sober."

"Not that I'll ever see that," I guessed.  
"I'm sober right now," he said.

I froze. And not just because it was thirteen fucking degrees out.

"You're not high now?" I chocked out.  
"No . . . I haven't had a hit in days," he said, "Why?"

I was frozen in place. If Will was sober . . . Completely one hundred percent sober, I should've been hearing his thoughts. But I wasn't. I wasn't hearing anything. No thoughts at all. Just the cold silence all around us. When I tried to read his mind, I couldn't. No thoughts. No nothing.

White noise.


	7. Pretty Girl

**Pretty Girl**

All my life I'd wanted to find someone whose thoughts I couldn't read. So I could get close to them, be their friend. Well I'd gotten my wish. And it was _Will. _Will of all people. A hyper-active druggie party boy. Not exactly what I was hoping for. Maybe a nice girl who I could have slumber parties with and talk about guys with. Or maybe a mysterious sexy outcast that I could fall in love with. A best friend, a lover. _Something. _But Will? Just no . . .

Sure, I wanted to know _why _I couldn't read Will's thoughts. But honestly, I was more annoyed then curious. Fate really was cruel. It gave me what I'd always wanted but it turned around and bit me in the ass. Because I couldn't be close to Will. I really just couldn't. He was Will. All he cared about was getting high and fucking _Snickers _bar.

The incident on Monday had been a glitch. The next day he'd been back to his usual crack-head self. And the next three days after that. By Friday, I'd given up hopes of seeing a sober Will anytime in the near future.

By Friday, my annoyance was starting to fade a little and curiosity was kicking in. I began wondering why I couldn't read Will's mind. Because, never had I ever, found a person whose mind I couldn't read. Sure, there were some very secretive people whose thoughts were subconsciously veiled. They took a little focus to read, but still, they were readable. And then there were addicts, like Will, whose thoughts were typically muddled and therefor hard to understand. But still, I could read them. Never had I come across someone whose mind was _unreadable. _

This is what I was mulling over while I walked with Heather to the parking lot after school on Friday. I hadn't been listening to her chatter but when I heard my name I snapped out of it.  
"Amunet," she said, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," I lied, checking her mind, "You wanted to know if I was going to Kristy's party."  
"Well are you?" she asked.

"Ugh no," I said, "She hates me."  
"No she doesn't. Well, she does. But only because Will likes you," she explained.

"Will does not have a crush on me," I told her with a roll of my eyes.  
"No not that _like. _He just . . . likes you. He shows interest in you," she elaborated.

I shrugged. "I'm new. He's a stoner. Stoners are amused by shiny things. It's not that hard to get."  
"Well, Kristy obviously doesn't think that."

Yeah. I know.

"Yeah, I know," I said.  
"So . . . you coming or not?" she pestered me again.

"I wasn't invited, as if that wasn't obvious," I told her.  
"So? Half the people at her last party didn't even know her," she said.

"Eh . . . I'm not a party person."  
"Well then maybe you should become one," she urged. "Come on. Will's gonna be there."

"I thought we established that Will doesn't have a crush on me," I said, annoyed.  
"We did. But I never said that you don't have a crush on him," she taunted.

I stared at her and checked her thoughts. She was serious.  
"Did you sample some of his crack?" I demanded, "I don't like Will."

"Don't lie," she said, "Everybody likes Will. You don't have to be embarrassed. He's gorgeous. I used to like him . . . Before I met Mike that is . . ."  
Her thoughts went all pink and fuzzy around the edges as she went over memories of her and Mike in her head, like a mental slide show. I gagged.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not like most girls," I informed her.  
"Doesn't matter," she insisted, "His hotness and charm affect us all the same."

"You know what, if I say I'll go to the party will you _stop _bugging me about Will?" I bargained. Secretly though, I did kind of want to go to the party. I'd never been to a real house party.  
"Deal," she jumped on the offer, "But only if I get to give you a makeover."

"A what?" I demanded.  
"Oh come on Nettie, _please_," she begged, "I would _kill _to do your hair."

Before I could respond Mike called over to us. We had reached the parking lot and Mike was leaning against his black creeper van about twenty feet from us. Aaron and Will were with him. Aaron smoking a cigarette and Will spinning around in circles.

"Heather!" Mike called and she immediatly responded. She looked up at him and her cheeks turned a rosy pink color. Just thinking about him and seeing him made her fill up with love and adoration. It made me wanna barf.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck.  
"I missed you," he mumbled.

"I missed you more," she said.  
"No I missed you more," he insisted.

Gag, gag, gag.

"Well I hope you'll both miss _me_. Cause I'm about to kill myself due to all the mushyness in the air," I informed them.  
Aaron came over then, his cigarette between his fingers. "Get used to it," he said, "They're like this _all _the time. It's sickening, I know."

Like me, Aaron was _jealous _of Heather and Mike. I hated being jealous, but I couldn't help it. The two of them were just so damn happy, and I knew that I would never be like that.

I would never have someone who loved me like Mike loved Heather. And he really did love her for her. Honestly, Heather was pretty plain. Defiantly not ugly, but not exactly pretty either. With makeup, she looked mildly pretty. She was tall and lanky with long brownish blonde hair and pale skin. She was extremly skinny with braces. But in Mike's eyes, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

I was so jealous.

"Fantastic," I muttered.  
"Mikey," Heather said, changing the subject, "Don't you think Amunet should let me give her a makeover?"

"That's a great idea," he said. Of course.  
"I agree with love bird number two," Aaron said, "Heather's good at that sorta shit. I bet she'd make you look hot."

I glowered.  
"I bet Will will agree," Mike said.

"Hey Billy!" Aaron called, "Yo Billy! Stop fucking spinning in circles and get over here!"

Will looked up and then stumbled, laughing at the vertigo he must've been experiencing.  
"Dude! Everything is spinning!" he called back, stumbling and laughing some more.

"That's cause you just spun around in circles for five minutes straight dumbass!" Aaron yelled back, "Now come here!"  
Will tripped, stumbled, and half fell over to us. But he made it.

"What?" he wondered, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his vision.  
"Don't you think Heather should give Amunet a makeover?" Aaron asked.

"And you are?" Will asked, looking confused.  
"Aaron," he said, rolling his eyes.

"And I am?" he asked.  
"A dumbass," Aaron said, shoving his shoulder. He didn't shove him hard, but the dizzy Will fell into a snow bank anyway.

Everyone burst out laughing. Even me. Still laughing, Mike let go of Heather to help Will out of the snow drift. He got unsteadily to his feet, laughing. He was covered in snow and soaking wet. His hair was saturated with snow and the thin sweatshirt he wore didn't seem to be enough to keep him warm. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering through his smile.

"You idiot," Mike said, "Why aren't you wearing a fucking jacket?"  
Mike kind of thought of Will as a younger brother, always looking out for him. Seeing as Will couldn't take care of himself half the time anyway. It was kind of sweet.

"Who wears a jacket in May?" he retorted, wrapping his arms around himself despite his claims that it was Spring.  
"It's December you fucktard," Aaron chimed in, "That's why there's snow on the ground dumbass."

"Aww," Will whined, "I wish it was Spring. That's rabbit mating season you know."  
"We all know that you're obsessed with bunnies Billy," Aaron muttered, rolling his eyes, "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't wear a jacket in _December."_

"Come on idiot," Mike said, grabbing Will by his hood, "Let's get in the car before you get a fucking phemonia. Heather, you coming?"  
"No," she said, "I'm gonna go to Amunet's house and give her a makeover."

"I never said that," I argued.  
She batted her eyelashes. "Please?" she asked.

"Oh fine. But only because I can't take your whining anymore," I succumbed.  
"Yes!" she cheered.

"Okay, have fun then," Mike said, pecking her on the lips.  
"See you tonight," she said as the guys walked away.

Mike pulling Will by his hood and Aaron following behind, laughing.  
"I have the right to remain silent!" Will shouted as Mike pulled him.

"Then why don't you?" quipped Aaron.  
I rolled my eyes and laughed. Despite being totally angsty, Aaron actually had a sense of humor that was similiar to mine. Cynical.

"So . . . Where's your car?" Heather asked. She was bubbling with excitement for the chance to give me a makeover.  
"Over here," I told her, leading her towards my hulking SUV.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, "Big car . . . New car."  
"My mom got it for me," I said with a shrug, climbing into the front seat.

Heather got into the passenger seat and I began driving towards my house.  
"You're so lucky you have a licence," she said, "I can't wait until I'm old enough to drive."

"Yeah. I got my permit the day I turned sixteen and then I got my licence as soon as possible," I told her.  
"That's what I'm going to do," she said, "But for now at least I have Mike to drive me. Not like I go anywhere without him anyway."

"Did your parents ever give you any trouble about dating a senior?" I wondered, "I mean, you're only a sophomore."  
The only reason I didn't know was because she hadn't thought about it around me before.

"At first," she admitted, "But they really like Mike."  
"He's a good guy," I agreed, surprising myself because it was true. Previously, I had hated everybody. But now I had friends . . . I knew who I had to thank for that. But I never would.

"I know," she said, "He's great."  
I didn't say anything. I might've liked the guy, but great was too strong an adjective for anybody in my book.

We drove for a while, Heather singing along with the radio the whole time. When we arrived at my house her thoughts were shocked.  
"This . . . is your house?" she demanded, surprised.

"Yeah," I said, pulling into the driveway.  
"Damn. I mean I figured you had bucks cause you have like all nice clothes but wow . . ." she trailed off.

"My mom's a lawyer," I explained. A really good one.  
"And what's your dad do?"

"I don't know him," I mumbled.  
"Oh . . . My bad," she apologized.

"It doesn't matter," I insisted as I parked in the garage, "I don't care."  
We both got out of the car and into my house. Lila came up to Heather, sniffing her and whining excitedly.

"Aw. What a cute dog," she said, petting her head, "What's his name?"  
"She's a her," I corrected, "And her name is Lila."

"Pretty . . ." she said, "I love collies."  
"Yeah . . . Well where do you want to do this?" I asked.

"Bathroom preferably," she said, "You do have makeup right?"  
"Yeah . . . My mom does anyway," I told her as I led her to the stairs.

"Okay, plus I have some of my stuff in my bag," she said, "For touch ups and stuff."  
As I led her through the downstairs and to the second floor, she marveled at everything in her mind. She didn't voice her awe though.

I guided her up to the master bathroom and grabbed my mother's makeup bag.  
"Anything else you need?" I wondered.

"No . . . Just sit," she instructed. I went and closed the lid on the porcelain toilet and sat down.  
"Okay. First things first. Do you have contacts?" she asked.

"Yeah. I only wear them for swimming though," I told her.  
"Well, you're wearing them now," she said, taking my glasses off.

"Aggressive," I mumbled.  
"Beauty is a serious thing," she said, pulling my hair out of it's bun. I could feel it falling down past my shoulders.

She sighed. "God I hate you. Your hair is so pretty. It's like fucking black silk . . ."  
"Thanks . . . I guess," I said.

She took the brush off the counter and began pulling it through my hair. She marveled mentally at how easily the brush went through my hair. I didn't see what the big deal was.  
"Okay, we're defiantly leaving your hair down," she decided, "It looks amazing. Actually I'm not even going to touch it anymore. It doesn't need straightening or anything."

"Okay then . . ." I mumbled.  
"Alright then," she said, grabbing her eyeliner, "I'm going to do some dark eyeliner. It'll look really good on you. Give you a kind of mysterious, ancient look."

I opened and closed my eyes as instructed while she applied heavy eyeliner around my eyes. By accessing her thoughts I could see exactly how they looked. It did look kind of . . . "cool" for lack of a better word. I wasn't big into makeup and honestly I didn't care how I looked, but still, I couldn't deny that it looked nice.

"Okay that looks totally bitchin," she decided, grabbing her eyeshadow, "Now I'm gonna use some dark eye shadow. It'll look amazing with your complextion."  
She applied the eyeshadow and this time I really did like it. She had been right. It did look great.

"That's fucking awesome," she appraised, "Okay . . . So I'm not going to do any mascara. Your eyelashes are long enough and I don't wanna make it all clumpy looking."  
She went through my mom's makeup and found her foundation. She studied it. "This looks like it would match you . . . Do you and your mom have the same skin tone?" she wondered.

"We're practically identical," I confirmed.  
"Okay. Cool," she said, using her fingers to apply the liquid foundation to my face, "You have really good skin . . . But this way it can all be one solid tone. It looks even better this way."

"Now for the lips . . ." she trailed off, rummaging through makeup supplies, "I need something like epically red. Devil red lips, mocha colored skin. Like totally perfect combo."  
"Now _this _is fucking perfect," she said, holding a thing of red lipstick up to the light and actually kissing it, "Thank you God."

I gave her a weird look. And people thought I was strange . . .  
She came over and applied the lipstick and then stepped back. "Holy mother fucking shit," she said, staring at me, "You are freaking gorgeous! Look in the mirror."

Although I already knew what I looked like, through Heather's eyes, I humored her by getting up and looking in the mirror. Okay, so I admit, my earlier assessment that with makeup I could be really pretty, was true. I looked . . . Well Heather had pretty much summed it up. Down, my hair reached halfway down my back, looking very much like black silk. My eyes looked pretty magnificent; the eyeliner accented them nicely and the eyeshadow really did look good with my skin and eye color. My skin looked nearly flawless with the toner covering any discolorations and my lips really did pop thanks to the red lipstick.

I looked really pretty. But that didn't mean I was about to start putting makeup on everyday. This was a one time thing.

"It looks good," I agreed.  
"Good? Are you kidding? I made you fucking gorgeous!" she exclaimed. "If I was a lesbian . . ."

I gave her a weird look. In school she was so normal . . . What the hell happened?

"If you were a lesbian, Mike would be in for a big surprise," I completed for her.  
She laughed. "I don't think he'd mind. Well, not if I was bisexual. He'd love to watch me make out with another chick. Especially you, now that you look fucking _hot!_"

"Okay, now you're starting to creep me out," I said.  
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Come on. I need to do your nails."

I found her some red nail polish and she proceeded to paint my nails with expertise. When she was done, we waited almost ten minutes before she was sure they were dry.  
"Okay, now we need to find you some suitable party clothes," she said.

I led her to my bedroom and she marveled at that. She went into my closet and exclaimed, "Holy shit does somebody live in here?"  
"Not that I know of," I said, sitting down on my bed.

"Jesus Christ . . ." she mumbled and her thoughts informed me that she was going through all my clothes.  
"You got some nice shit," she noted, "Pricey."

I shrugged even thought I knew she couldn't see it. "My mom likes to buy me things."  
"I wish I could say the same about mine . . ." she muttered.

After a few more minutes of rummaging she'd found what she desired. She came out of my closet holding several garments.  
"Okay this is gonna look so awesome," she said, laying the outfit out on my bed.

It was a pair of black skinny jeans, a white camisole, and a clear sparkly button up blouse. I'd worn the jeans and the camisole before, but the blouse still had a price tag on it.  
"Now imagine it with those white furry boots your wearing," she told me, "So awesome. Now put it on and then I'll adjust it. First I gotta go touch up my makeup though."

She left the room and I sighed, changing into my new outfit, cautious of my makeup while putting on the camisole. Once I was dressed I put my white fur boots back on and went into the bathroom where Heather was fixing her makeup. She was in the process of reapplying her blue eyeshadow when I entered.

"Fuck my fuck, I was right," she said, "That looks great. I should like coordinate outfits for famous people when I'm older."  
"Why the hell not?" I mumbled.

"Okay just hold on a sec there's just one thing I gotta fix," she said, putting on her mascara.  
She reapplied her concealer and then turned to me. "Okay, there's just one thing. You don't need to button your shirt up to your chin," she said, unbuttoning at least six buttons.

"You have big boobs," she said, fixing my camisole, "Show 'em off damn it. I mean seriously, I would kill to look like you and you don't even realize how lucky you are."  
No. She was the lucky one. She was normal. She was in love. I wasn't and I never would be.

"You got a full length mirror anywhere in this house?" she asked, "Cause you gotta see this perfection."  
"In my mom's room," I told her.

"Well take me there!" she demanded and I did.  
"Viola," she said, gesturing at the mirror as I stood in front of it.

I stared. I looked . . . Nothing like myself. Sure, I'd seen what I'd looked like in Heather's mind, but it was different seeing it with my own eyes. I looked really good. I looked nothing like myself. No glasses, hair down, makeup on, low cut shirt. It was like looking at a different person. The blouse I wore was thin, clear, and sparkly; leaving my shoulders and arm bare. It was unbuttoned about three fifths of the way down, revealing the low cut tank top which revealed the tops of my tanned breasts. My dark hair flowed past my shoulders, looking like a curtain of black silk.

Who the fuck was this chick?


	8. Party Girl

**Party Girl **

I was never big into parties. Actually, I'd never been to a real teenage house party before. Because hey, I'd never had friends before. And friendless people really don't get out a lot, as just a general rule. So forgive me for being a little apprehensive when Heather dragged me to Kristy's party.

I had to park practically a mile down the road from Kristy's house due to the rows of cars. The two of us, Heather and I, walked along the dark side walk, the sounds of the party and the thoughts of it's inhabitants barely reached us. I shivered, holding my arms tightly around myself, wishing I had brought a jacket to protect me against the bitter December cold. We approached the house and it looked like your typical house for a middle class working American.

The pounding of music could be detected from outside, but not the actual music it's self. Nobody lingered outside. We were late because Heather had made me drive all the way across town for dinner and then _all _the way back to my house because she thought she had lost the ring Mike had given her; we'd found it on the bathroom floor.

We cut across the front lawn and Heather didn't bother knocking, she just opened the door. It was unlocked. The sounds, scents, and smells of the party hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like walking out of church and into an orgy. There was an extreme contrast between the cold barren winter wonderland outside and the party inside the house.

The lights were dim, but not so much that it impaired your vision. Even from this small little glimpse I could see many bodies crowded together, moving to the painfully loud music. The smell of beer, vomit, marijuana, and sweat filled my nose and nearly made me gag.

People actually enjoyed this sort of thing?

"Jesus," I muttered. Heather didn't hear me. I wasn't surprised. I didn't even hear me. It was way to fucking loud in this place. The music, the voices, the intoxicated jumbled thoughts. All of it was painfully overwhelming. I was already developing a headache.

I followed Heather through the mass of bodies, not even sure where we were going. Heather's thoughts just got lost in the chaos. I couldn't focus on anything. There was music and shouting tormenting my eardrums. My brain pounded from the hectic thoughts that entered it and the constant flashes I got. There were people all over the place; brushing up against me, bumping into me, touching me.

I concentrated on following Heather. Her willowy form nearly getting lost in all the chaos. A party was obviously not the best place for a mind reader, I learned, there was just too much going on. Thoughts, words, drunken flashes. It was disorienting. I could tune out some of it but not all.

Heather led me through the sea of bodies. I couldn't get a direct read on her thoughts, but I knew that she was searching for Mike. Eventually, we found him, in the dining room with some other guys who were playing a drinking game. Although the party just sort of flowed from room to room, it was a little quieter in here. Still loud, but the walls kept out some of the excess, making it bearable.

Automatically Mike's gaze gravitated to Heather, it was like a reflex. Only after he had her in his arms did he look up at me. His mind registered shock and a flimsy meaningless attraction.  
"Wow Heather," he said, resting his chin on her head, "You did a great job. She looks amazing."

"More amazing then me?" she teased.  
"Of course not," he murmured into her hair.

I wanted to either cough my dinner back up or beat them both senseless with a stick.

Aaron came over then, a shot glass in his hand. He threw it back as he paused in front of me.  
"Hey Heather, whose your friend?" he wondered, one hundred percent serious. Granted, he was a little buzzed.

"It's Amunet, dumbfuck," Heather said with a roll of her eyes.  
He stared at me. "Oh no fuckin way," he said, "You're totally shitting me."

"It's really me you moron," I snapped.  
"Fuck my fuck it's really her," he said, sounding amazing, "Damn you look hot."

"I should slap you," I informed him.  
"You should," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Pervert," I said with a roll of my eyes.  
"Don't get mad at him," Heather interjected, "I just made you too stunningly sexy."

"My girl has mad skills," Mike said proudly, nuzzling her neck.  
"In the sack," Aaron added.

Mike didn't like that at all. His thoughts were incredibly pissed even thought he knew Aaron was just teasing.  
"Jealous much bitch?" Heather taunted, picking up on Mike's anger and knowing that her telling off Aaron would cool him off.

"Not if I get to hook up with Nettie tonight," he teased.  
I gave him a look. "I wouldn't go home with you if you begged me with your dying breath," I told him.

"Hey, you don't have to come home with me," he said, "We could do it here. There are closets."  
I made a distasteful sound in the back of my throat. "All men are repulsive," I commented.

I wasn't exaggerating. Aaron wasn't the only one who had taken notice of the new me. I was picking up thoughts about me from the guys playing their drinking game off to the side. Things like:

_". . . So fucking sexy."  
"Who the fuck is _she?"  
_"I'd totally hit that . . ." _

And then something about motorboating that made me shudder. Now, all of these things might be very flattering, especially to someone like me who usually didn't get any attention at all. However, I wasn't that shallow. I didn't find hollow compliments on my appearance a good confidence booster. It was all superficial. None of it meant anything.

"All but mine," Heather said, snuggling back into Mike's embrace.  
Aaron made a disgusted face. "I need another drink," he muttered. "Care to join me Amunet."

"No. Actually," I snapped.  
"If you change your mind," he said, winking at me before leaving. He was only partially kidding.

"I think Aaron has the hots for you," Mike said once he'd left.  
"Not as badly as she has it for Will," Heather added.

"I thought we agreed that you'd stop talking about that if I let you . . . do _this _to me?" I demanded, outraged.  
"You like Will?" Mike asked.

"No," I said defensively. Because it was true. I didn't.  
"Speaking of Will," Heather said, deciding to do me a favor and change the subject, "Where is he?"

Mike shrugged. "He's around here somewhere."  
"You drove him here didn't you?" I challenged, implying that he should know where he is.

"Not like he'd be able to drive himself here," he said, "Well, not in one piece anyway."  
"Pleasant. Well, I'm going to mingle with . . . Other people," I said, not too discreetly excusing myself to leave.

"I feel loved," Heather mumbled sarcastically.  
Mike tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "You should," he murmured into her hair.

Jesus Christ could these two tone it down for five freaking seconds?

I left the kitchen and edged my way through party-goers. I was looking for some sort of retreat to all this noise. This whole party thing just wasn't really my style. I considered just getting in my car and leaving. Mike was driving Heather home anyway.

I slipped out the front door and shivered at the cold. It had begun to snow. I wrapped my arms around myself and began my walk down the driveway. There was a person on their hands and knees with their head in the bushes off to the side. Do to the lack of thoughts and the presence of white noise, I knew exactly who that person was.

"Hello William," I said briskly as I approached.  
"Hi Nettie," he said, his voice sounding more casual then I thought Will was capable of.

"Throwing up in a bush?" I inquired, pausing to look at him.  
"About to," he said.

"Over boozing?" I assumed.  
"Lil' bit," he mumbled, sounding kind of like he was going to be sick.

"The great William Sharp can't hold his liquor?" I quipped, smiling slightly to myself.  
"Not as much as I drank," he mumbled.

"You're supposed to be the perfect example of an irresponsible teenager," I said, "And you can't even hold your liquor."  
He lifted his head out of the bush and turned to look at me. He looked faintly surprised when he saw me. "New look?" he asked.

"You were there when Heather said she was giving me a makeover," I said.  
He shakily got to his feet, swayed a bit, and then steadied himself. "Yeah I . . . don't remember that," he said honestly.

"That's a side affect of being chronically high," I said.  
"I'm not high now," he defended himself, stumbling slightly as he took a step towards us.

"True but you are drunk," I said.  
He smiled guiltily as he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Just a_ little_ tipsy," he said.

"The whole world is spinning right now isn't it?" I guessed.  
His smile grew and he nodded.

"You'll never change, will you Will?" I sighed.  
"It doesn't seem likely," he said honestly.

"Well as much as I love conversing with you Will I have to get going," I said, holding my arms tighter around myself, "It's freezing out here."  
"You're leaving?" he asked, seeming confused, "It's only like . . . Well it's early I know."

"Parties aren't my thing," I said, "Unlike you obviously."  
He shrugged.

"Well I'm going to get going while I still have use of my fingers," I said.  
"I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, sounding like it too as he covered his mouth with his hand and collapsed back to the ground.

I could hear him throwing up in the bush as I walked away.  
"Bye Will," I sung smugly as I left and headed for my car.

Yeah . . . Parties. Not my thing.


	9. Everything Girl

**Everything Girl**

"Billy, why do you have a handful of candy canes?"

It was two weeks later and we were all sitting at lunch that Monday. It was the week before Christmas and the students were all a buzz. Will had approached the table with a candy cane in his mouth and several others clenched in one hand. He wore a black and grey striped hoodie and had his bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed as usual, and he had a welt on his head and a bruise on his jaw. He'd come in late that day so this was the first any of us had seen of him.

"I dunno," he sung, balancing on his heels and twirling the candy cane around in his mouth, "Some girl just gave me like thirty of them."  
"Any particular reason?" I inquired even though I already knew.

"Every year around Christmas time student council holds a fundraiser," Aaron answered, "Where you can send candy canes to people."  
I'd already known, but seeing as I was new, I had to pretend not to know certain things.

"Yeah you know, people that you like. People that you _love_," Heather said, snuggling closer to Mike.  
"I sent you one," he said, tightening his arm around her.

"And I sent you one," she said in a lovey-dovey, cutsey-cutsey, baby voice. Blech.  
"Do you _want _me to off myself?" Kristy snapped.

Well, quite frankly, yes. But I couldn't deny that I agreed.

"So I assume that means that many people _love _Will," I said.  
"Yeah. Love to see him suck on things," Aaron quipped and the table laughed.

"You know it," Will said, sitting down, "That's right. Be jealous bitches."  
I rolled my eyes.

"So where were you this morning?" Kristy wondered in a whiny voice, "I missed you in physics."  
He shrugged. "I got back late from my dad's last night . . . Or was it early? Is it possible to be so late that your early? Or so early that your late?"

Based on his crack-pot philosophical ramblings, my guess was that the drug of the day was marijuana.

"What'd do to your face this time?" Mike wondered, "Fall down the stairs again?"  
"Try to go through a glass door?" Aaron volunteered.

"Try to get something off a high shelf?" Heather suggested.  
"Walk into a wall?" Juliet chimed in.

Evidently Will had a reputation for being a huge klutz. Yet another side-affect of being habitually high.

"Nooooo . . ." he said, "I tripped and bashed my head on a dresser."  
"Dumbass," Heather muttered.

"It wasn't my fault," he defended himself, "The floor was like _moving!_"  
"It's called weed my friend," Mike said, "You should try it sometime . . . Actually, maybe that's the problem."

"Maybe . . ." he agreed, "Or _maybe _it's all an evil plot by my arch Nemesis, Plankton!"  
"And maybe I'm the queen of Switzerland," Heather muttered sarcastically.

"Are you really?" he enthused.  
"No," she said plainly.

"Awww . . ." he pouted.  
"What about that bruise on your jaw?" I wondered suddenly, noting what none of the other's had.

He shrugged. "You can't really expect me to remember how I get all my bruises . . . Especially with all these beautiful _dust motes _floating around," he said, oggling the dust motes.  
Naturally, I wasn't the only one who rolled their eyes.

"Hey Aaron, did you do the homework for government?" Mike asked as Heather fed him a french fry.  
"Have I ever?" he quipped, stealing one of Heather's french fries.

"Crap. Did anybody do it? I need to copy it or Balin is gonna kill me," he said.  
"Since when do you care?" Kristy said.

"I don't . . . But the old man's a pain in my ass," he said. He was partially lying. He was really just sick of being yelled at by teachers all the time.  
"Then ditch," Juliet suggested.

"Yeah. That'll help," he muttered sarcastically, knowing he probably would just for the hell of it.  
"I think I'm gonna ditch last period and go home early," Aaron said, "I'm so tired."

"Too much fun last night?" Mike teased.  
"Oh yeah," he said, smirking.

"Oh yeah? With who?" Kristy challenged.  
"Your sister," he said. He wasn't kidding.

"Oh shut up," she dismissed.  
"I'm serious," he said.

She thought about it for a second. Her sister had missed curfew by three hours last night.  
_"I'm going to fucking kill him," _she thought when it all clicked.

"You sicko!" she exclaimed, smacking him forcefully, "My sister's fourteen!"  
He grinned. "I know."

"Wait 'til I tell my brother. He's gonna kill you," she threatened. She was serious.  
He shrugged. "Worth it," he said.

The truth was, that Aaron had a bit of a thing for Kristy. But he knew it was no use because it was obvious that Kristy was into Will. I mean, it wasn't a secret, she was all over him constantly. The only person who probably didn't know was Will. Aaron knew though so he had figured to silence his broken heart with the next best thing. Kristy's little sister Lori, who looked very similar to her older sister.

Personally, I didn't understand why he was so hung up about Kristy. She was a bitch.

"Uck," she said with distaste, looking away from him.  
"Oh my God!" Will exclaimed, "I love this song!"

"There's no music on . . ." I trailed off warily.  
"Prove it," he said, getting up and beginning to fist pump and dance.

I hid my eyes and stared at the table. Good God . . .

Kristy giggled and humored him by putting her IPod on speaker. Some random song came on which attracted the attention of anybody who wasn't already staring at Will. Kristy got up, laughing, and began to fist pump with Will. Everyone in the cafeteria was staring at them.

_"Oh my God, I don't know these people," _Heather thought. She wasn't like the rest of the crew. They didn't care what people thought about them, which was almost refreshing. They acted like idiots and they were admired. I think that was what made someone truly popular. Not caring what other people thought.

Kristy and Will's mock fist pumping dance led them several feet away from the table, closer to the closed windows. Juliet thought it looked like fun and got up as well and joined their little dance, forming a circle of three fist pumpers. Kristy wasn't happy sharing Will's attention, but she didn't want to appear jealous.

"Come on," Mike said, kissing Heather's hair, "Dance with me."  
"Nooooooo," she whined as she allowed Mike to pull her over to where they were all dancing.

He interlocked his fingers with her and the two began to dance. Despite her reluctance, Heather ended up laughing constantly. Her face was red but she looked like she was having fun. Aaron and I were the only ones at our table who hadn't joined the festivities.

Aaron was staring at Kristy with longing and hatred. And When Will twirled her around and she giggled ecstatically, Aaron felt his heart constrict. He really had it bad for her, for some reason, and had been feeling this way for a very long time. However, he'd never been able to get her to reciprocate his feelings.

"You know, sleeping with her sister was probably not the best way to make her like you," I told him.  
He looked at me, shocked. "What makes you think that I like Kristy?" he demanded. When really, in his mind, he was wondering how I knew.

I shrugged, smiling a slight, coy smile. "Everything," I said simply.  
He gave up on trying to deny it. He was tired of having to pretend he didn't feel the way he did. He sighed and put a hand on his forehead. "I don't know what to do," he said honestly. "I don't know why she wants him and not me. I just don't know how to make her see me. I just don't know . . ."

I was faintly surprised to be having an actual conversation with Aaron. I mean, I was overly cynical due to my mind reading abilities, but I was also secretly overly empathetic. Which sucked too because I literally felt other's pain. But I also knew that behind every bitch and every jerk, there was a real person. And I also knew that everyone just wanted to be loved. It made it harder to hate people. But it also made it easier.

"Knowing nothing is better than knowing it all," I told him.  
He looked up at me with lost green eyes. He let his eyes drop quickly and sighed. He didn't say anything but he looked back at the dancers. He felt jealousy towards Heather and Mike because they were both with the person they wanted to be with. He felt anger and jealousy towards Will, because Will had the most amazing girl in the world, in Aaron's mind, and he didn't even know it.

"If it makes you feel any better," I said, "I don't know what she sees in him."  
He looked at me for a long time. "Yes you do," he said after a pause. Because, like everyone else, he was under the impression that I liked Will. Just because "everyone" liked Will.

"I don't," I said honestly, "He's completely mental."  
He looked back at Will, who was fist pumping with a huge smile on his face. He shrugged. "He's just a happy kid," he said.

"He's an addict," I argued.  
"Well . . . If you had a chance to stop being miserable wouldn't you take it?" he asked.

"What makes you think that I'm miserable?" I demanded.  
He looked at me for a long time, taking in my dark haired pulled into a bun, my square glasses, my dark red button up blouse. But mostly he stared into my dark eyes, searching.

"Everything."


	10. Hopeless Girl

**Hopeless Girl**

It wasn't like me to get all flustered over a cute boy. It was unlike me to even notice a cute boy at all, let alone care. However, ever since I'd come to this school I'd been having lots of new experiences. It was the last day of school before break and I was on my way home after a leisurely day. I had taken a detour through town to stop by the grocery store to pick some stuff up for my mother. She was planning on making deserts for my aunt's house on Christmas.

I was walking out of the store, holding my white jacket trimmed in faux white fur closer to me. I considered taking my hair down so my ears wouldn't freeze off but my hands were too full with bags to take my hair out of it's bun. I made my way to the car and was unable to get my keys out of my pocket, hence I was unable to get my car door open.

"Aw fuck," I muttered, attempting to slide the bags around my wrists to free my hands. The thin plastic dug into my wrists as I struggled to free my hands. Sadly, I had one too many bags for that to be accomplishable. I kept trying for a bit longer though, knowing I had to get into my car _somehow. _

"Need some help there?" came a very recognizable voice. Will. Honestly, who were you expecting? After being in Hollow Creek for over a month, I had become accustomed to the habits of some of my . . . well I guess they were my friends. Will had a habit of popping up where you least expected it . . . So often that it was almost expected.

Will was coming over from the store, holding a single plastic bag. He hadn't been in school that day and the reason was apparent to me. For the first time in three weeks, he seemed sober again. Obviously suffering from some kind of withdrawal. He didn't seem bad, but he didn't seem good. Actually, I was pretty sure I'd never seen him looking 'good' per say. Today he had dark shadows under his eyes, the fading bruises from the other day still visible against his unusually pale skin. He had his _Northface _jacket on and didn't seem quite as cold as me, probably because my jacket was too thin.

"As much as I hate to admit it . . . " I trailed off, "Yes."  
"Will to the rescue," he mumbled listlessly as he came over and took some of the bags from me, freeing my hands.

"So where were you today?" I asked as I got my keys out of my pocket, "Off saving the world from alien invasions."  
He smiled faintly. "No," he said, "I had to stay home and help my mom pack."

"Oh you're going away?" I asked. Where did hookers go on vacation exactly?  
"Yeah. My mom's boyfriend is flying us to Florida with him," he said, not seeming particularly cheered by this.

It made sense now though. If his mom was as pretty and easy as everyone said (I still didn't have an exact confirmation on whether or not she was a prostitute though) then it made sense that she had a rich boyfriend who was willing to fly her and her son all over the place.

"Oh . . . That's nice," I said.  
He shrugged. "Eh not so much. I have to spend the next week and a half sober. Which sucks."

"What? Mommy doesn't know you're a druggie?" I quipped as I unlocked my car.  
"Oh she knows," he said, "She's not happy about it, but there's not much she can do to stop me. She works a lot."

_"On the corners?" _I wondered silently, not daring to say it aloud. That would be rude, even for me. Not to mention that Will wouldn't react well obviously.

"So a vacation means constant supervision, hence no drugs, hence bad?" I assumed as I went around back and opened my trunk.  
"Yes. But mostly because my mom's boyfriend is such a stiff who thinks I'm 'going down a bad road.'" he said, following me. "So yeah. No drugs equals no fun."

I guess not in Will's book.

"Well why don't you spend Christmas with your dad?" I asked as I loaded some of the bags in.  
He laughed dryly. "Yeah that's tons better," he muttered sarcastically. Sarcasm wasn't something he used often. When he was high, like he usually was, he was serious about everything.

"Why? What's wrong with your dad?" I wondered.  
"Uh I don't know? Everything," he said, helping me load up my trunk, "Not only is he a huge ass, but his new wife's a bitch and his step son's a jerk."

"Sounds pleasant," I said.  
"Oh yeah totally," he said sarcastically. "Which is why I'd rather spend my holiday sober than completely miserable."

"I think I'd make a similiar descion," I agreed, "Seeing as I spend every day sober."  
And _not _completely miserable, thank you Aaron. Only moderately miserable.

"I don't know how you do it," he mumbled, placing the last of the bags in the trunk.  
"A real mystery," I muttered, only half paying attention to him as I rearranged the bags in the trunk. Will had just sort of placed them without any regard to order.

"OCD much?" he quipped.  
I shrugged as I continued to arrange them so that the heavy bags were in the back, the light ones in the front. I was never sure why I always did that.

"I like order," I said.  
"And I like weed, but you don't see _me _obsessively rearranging my bong collection," he muttered sarcastically.

I raised an eyebrow. "Collection?" I echoed.  
"Pretend you didn't hear that," he told me, watching my sorting, "Are you done yet?"

I gave the bags a once over before answering. "Yes," I said, closing the trunk. "Thanks. Do you want a ride?"  
"Ummmmm," he thought about it, "Could you drop me off at the deli across town? I promised my mom I'd get her a sandwich."

"Yeah sure. Alright. I could do that," I agreed, "Come on."  
I got in the driver's seat and Will got into the passenger seat. I put the keys in the ignition and turned on the heat before looking at Will.

It wasn't until then, seeing Will sitting in _my car_, looking as good as I'd ever seen him, that some kind of long buried girl gene in me kicked in. I felt my palms get all sweaty and it seemed almost as if my pulse actually quickened. My mouth felt all dry and I had the strangest urge to fix my hair and adjust my jacket.

It was probably the first time I actually looked at a guy like that. Never had I noticed the things that I had noticed then. I had the power to see everything, and yet, until that moment, I felt like I had never seen _anything. _It was like I was looking at him with brand new eyes.

I took notice of how smooth and clear his skin appeared, practically without flaw. I noticed how perfectly shaped his lips were, how soft and . . . supple they looked. How his face was perfectly shaped with a perfect chin, and perfect cheekbones, and a perfect nose. How his dark hair was painstakingly and endearingly mussed with the personalized blood red tips. How his big eyes were a liquid stormy grey color like turbulent ocean waves. How his dark lashes were full like a girl's. How the two bruises on his jaw and forehead matched the shadows under his eyes. And still, those faults did little to dampen the rest of his perfection.

_"What the fuck?" _I thought as I got through the romanticized haze that had formed in my mind. Why was I thinking about Will like that? Why was I thinking about _any _guy like that? When I'd arrived in Hollow Creek I'd been a cynical ice queen. Now I was what? A hapless gushing hopeless romantic? No way in hell.

"You alright?" he wondered, looking up at me in concern through his lashes.  
I felt my bones turn to jelly. _"Oh that voice . . . And that look. God it's smoldering," _the thoughts were in my head before I could stop them. What was _wrong _with me? I was becoming a softie.

"I'm fine," I snapped, as I put the car in reverse, putting my foot down on the pedal with perhaps a little too much force. I pulled out of the parking lot and turned up the radio, avoiding looking at Will. He was making me all flustered and I didn't know why. All I knew was that I didn't like it at all.

"Do you uh . . . um live in town?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road. I groaned inwardly. I had just stuttered. _I. _Had. Just. _Stuttered.  
_"Sort of. Just on the outskirts," he said, "I usually just walk everywhere."

"And you've never stumbled into the street and gotten hit by a car?" I asked, pulling myself back together enough to be sarcastic and snippy. Good. Perfect.  
He smiled slightly. "Surprisingly yes," he said, giving me an accusatory, teasing look.

_"Oh God the look again," _I thought in dread, _"The smoldering 'looking up through the lashes' look. Oh God, Oh God." _I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds. _"Pull yourself together Lamorte, pull it together damn it."_

"Surprising yes," I agreed, "Seeing as I've seen you walk into doors on a regular basis. And according to school gossip, you're a miserable klutz."  
He shrugged. "If the boot fits . . ." he said.

"Well we've arrived," I said, finding a parking spot outside the deli, "Time to dismount the vehicle."  
"Who says things like dismount in regular conversation?" he asked, giving me the look again. I gripped the steering wheel and adverted my eyes.

"I do," I said, "Do you have a problem with that?"  
"Me? No, of course not," he said, putting his hands up to proclaim his innocence, "In fact, I was wondering if you'd want to hang out sometime. You know . . . after break."

I swore to God that my heart skipped a beat just then. My immediate reaction was influenced by my god forsaken hormones kicking in, I told myself. Once I let my brain do the thinking I remembered that Will was a hopeless stoner who was going nowhere.

But for some reason it wasn't my brain that was controlling my mouth just then. It was those god damned hormones. "Um sure yeah. I mean . . . okay," I stammered out.  
"Cool," he said, smiling to reveal a set of sparkling pearly whites, "I'll see you around then."

He gave me a slight mock salute before flashing another genuine smile before stepping out of the car. "Thanks for the ride," he said, taking his bag and closing the door behind him. I watched him walk away and disappear into the deli.

I slammed my head against the steering wheel. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered, "The fuck is wrong with you?" It was those god damn teenage hormones that everyone was always harping on and on about. I had never felt such strong hormonal affects though, well except when I was PMS'ing. Never had I felt really _attracted _to a boy. Sure, I noticed attractive guys, I just never really cared before. I knew too much about all of them to effectivly be drawn to them. Maybe that was why my hormones had kicked in with Will, because I didn't know a lot about him. That was probably it. Besides, he was gorgeous, whether or not I liked it. I was sure of one thing though.

No way in hell was I letting myself fall for Will.


	11. Holiday Girl

**Holiday Girl**

"Aunt Keket! Amunet! How nice to see you," my cousin exclaimed in excitement as she opened the door for us.

I glared at my cousin Nefertiti, my senior by one year. She was your basic goodie-two-shoes. The favorite. The people pleaser. She drove me up a wall. She was always perfectly groomed with her glossy black hair meticiously curled to perfection. Her purple painted eyelids and her mascara elongated lashes. Her glossed cherry red lips and impossibly long legs, made longer by heels. Her skin-tight red turtleneck contrasting with her naturally tanned skin and dark hair.

I had never gotten along with Nefertiti. She didn't' like me. I knew of course. She was always trying to be the favorite in the family, seeing me as competition because of my exceptional grades. Personally, I never actually tried to outdo her, it just happened.

"Oh Neffy!" my mother exclaimed, managing to hug her despite the desert dishes and presents she held, "You look wonderful."  
She smiled as they pulled apart. "Thanks. You look great too. Is that a new _Chanel _bag?"

I rolled my eyes as I followed the two of them through the house to the kitchen. My Aunt Jen's house was a chaotic place this day of the year. Still, the house looked spectacularly festive and cozy as always. Gold and red intertwined garland snaked down the railing of the grand staircase. My little cousins ran about, playing with their new toys. A real evergreen tree with dozens of perfect colored globes hanging from it was situated in the living room. A gorgeous Christmas angel rested atop it. A fire burned in the fire place as my Uncle Chuma nudged it with a poker. Figurines of nutcrackers, snowman, and santas decorated the windowsills. The stockings of Aunt Jen's family hung there. Brilliant red carnations in ornate vases rested on endside tables.

In the kitchen, there was more chaos. The room smelled of turkey, but also of more spicey, less traditionally Christmas foods. My mom's two sisters were gathered there, along with my oldest cousin Umayama and her baby boy Set. My grandmother was also there, correcting my aunts on some recipe.

We greeted everyone, placing our deserts in the packed refrigerator before putting the presents off to the side. My mother began to cluck about with her sisters and her mother. My cousins Umayama and Nefertiti easily flowing into the conversation about recipes and family gossip. I sat at the table and tried to tune everything out for a little while.

"Am," my mother said after a while, "Why don't you go upstairs and say hello to the rest of your cousins."  
"Okay," I muttered and left. I greeted my uncles and grandfather as I passed them on my way. I went up the grand staircase and followed the sound of thoughts to the playroom, where a number of my cousins usually gathered this time of year.

Inside it was just as intensely chaotic then downstairs. My little cousins Ise and Jamila were playing with Ise's new dollhouse off the side. My thirteen year old cousin Kissa was showing my fifteen year old cousin Sanura some video on her new laptop. My eight year old cousin Nassor and ten year old cousin Ra were playing some kind of portable game device together. Now, my older cousins, the seventeen year old Dakarai and eighteen year old Sekani were playing some kind of war video came on the wide screen television.

Everyone of them had the varying shades of dark eyes, tanned skin, and dark hair. Sure, we all looked different because we all had different parents. But those three traits stayed pretty consistent. It was plainly obvious that we were all related. And all the foreign names made it obvious that we were all Egyptian.

"Is this really the best game to be playing in front of the children?" I asked as I entered.  
Dakarai turned to look at me and Sekani shot his character in the chest. "Aw fuck it Am! I just died."

"Hey. You watch your fucking language," I warned, "There are children here."  
"Thanks Amunet," Sekani said, smiling, "Because of you I won."

"Redo," Dakarai demanded. "You cheated."  
"Fine, fine," Sekani said, restarting the game, "I'm just going to kick your ass again but hey, whatever floats your boat."

"Amunet," Kissa said, "Come see this video."  
I went over to her and hovered older her shoulder. I saw the video replay in her head before she hit play, so I already knew what was going to happen. But, I contained my laughter until the kid on the bike flipped over the railing and down ten feet. Seeing people get hurt always amused me. You know, as long as they didn't die.

"That kid ended up with two broken arms," Kissa told me.  
"Good luck eating like that," I muttered.

"I wouldn't mind spoon feeding him," Sanura said with a waggle of her eyebrows as she licked her lips.  
"You're so gross," Kissa said. She was a bit of a prude while Sanura was the opposite. Her name meant 'kitten' but she interpreted it as 'sex kitten.'

The next few hours were spent similarly. Watching videos on the Internet with Kissa and Sanura. When dinner was called, we all went down stairs and the whole family situated themselves around the house to eat. There were thirty of us, which meant it was impossible for us all to eat at one table. Most of the adults ate in the dining room, but some ate in front of the TV, my uncles mostly. All the kids ate at the kitchen table and at the island. Dakarai and Sekani sat on the counters.

I usually enjoyed myself at Christmas, despite the party atmosphere induced headache. One reason was because of the amazing food. We had the usual turkey and mashed potatoes, but with exotic spices thrown in. Not to mention some native Egyptian meals that were always thrown in. It made sense, seeing as my mother and all her siblings had been born there. They'd moved to America when my mother was about three.

Dinner was fantastic and then it was on to presents. All of us kids gathered around the tree while the adults scattered around. We all exchanged presents. Ise, Jamilia, and Set all got the largest presents, seeing as they were all little. Us older children made out pretty nicely too of course.

I wasn't really big into the present part of Christmas. Yeah, that was nice, but really, I wasn't as into it as I had been when I was little. Because now I could just go out with my shiny credit card and buy just about anything I wanted. I did however really like giving gifts, that sounds insane, but it was true. I always knew exactly what someone would like, because I knew them so well. And then I could use the aforementioned credit card to buy them something nice. I loved seeing the looks on their faces when they opened a present they really liked.

Still I had gotten a nice haul. Several novels because everybody knew I loved to read. Diamond earrings, a _Coach _wallet, a gorgeous diamond and sapphire encrusted owl broach from my grandmother, a set of _Armani _perfumes, a jeweled comb for my hair, some new clothes, ect. Nobody got anybody money or gift cards though in this family, because they knew that everybody had access to get anything they wanted. Money would be pointless. The point was to pick out gifts yourself.

The entire Lamorte family was wealthy, obviously. Not by inheritance, they were all just naturally intelligent and successful people. My mom was the only lawyer in the family. But my Aunt Jendayi was among one of the several doctors. There was also a therapist, a judge, a politician, and a developer. Success was in the Lamorte blood, which was why my cousin Nefertiti was always competing with me to be on top.

After presents was desert. Another amazing meal of course. There was so much desert that it was almost overwhelming. Only about half of it was gone by the end. We stayed around for another hour or two, conversing with everybody as the crowd slowly dwindled, families trickling out. When it was about ten, my mother decided it was time to pack it up. We said our goodbyes and packed our stuff into the car.

On the drive home I let my mind wander. I loved Christmas and the whole season. I was cynical, but defiantly not a Scrooge. The only thing I disliked about Christmas was how quickly it passed. We spent a month decorating and building up to this one day . . . And then twenty four hours and it was over. It left me with a melancholy feeling. I pushed it away as quickly as I could, turning up the radio. There were other things to look forward to. Break, New Years, Easter, my birthday, summer . . . Seeing Will.

_"God damn it!" _I cursed myself. I had gone an _entire _day without thinking about Will. Sure, I'd thought about him yesterday, since baking with my mom left me with a lot of time to think. But I'd been so caught up in Christmas and my family that I hadn't thought of him at all. But there he was again. Popping into my mind again. Annoying little bastard. Despite how annoying it was, thinking about seeing Will again got me through the post-Christmas melancholy I'd been experiencing.

It sickened me to think that the simple thought of seeing Will had cheered me so much.


	12. Dream Girl

**Dream Girl**

_There was nothing in the world but him. His hot lips peppering the cold skin of my jugular with sweet kisses. One of his rough hands raking through my hair while the other rested on the small of my back, pressing me against his hard body. I was utterly consumed by him. __He began to nip at my neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin there, making me giggle. _

_His lips moved north while his hands moved south. His lips met mine while both of his hands roughly grabbed my ass, making me yelp in surprise and pleasure. He kissed me with feverish desire and I kissed him back. His lips were soft but they kissed me roughly, and his mouth tasted like caramel and chocolate. I knotted my hands into his soft hair, needing something to keep me grounded. _

_"Time to wake up Nettie," he murmured against my lips.  
What? Nettie? The only guy who always called me Nettie was . . . _

_Light filled the scene, allowing me to see that the 'he' who was so passionately kissing me was Will. _

My eyes sprung open to see the pile of books that rested on my nightstand. Automatically my hand flew to my neck, checking for the hickey I knew wouldn't be there. I sighed in relief once I was sure. My alarm clock proclaimed it to be six, meaning it was time for me to wake up since it was the first day back to school, but I lay there, panting for a moment while I tried to recover from the all too vivid dream.

I got up after a few minutes and hastily bolted to the bathroom. I started the shower even though I'd just taken one the night before. I needed to try and wash away the memory of the dream, but also the gross feeling it had given me.

I shed my pajamas and hopped into the shower. The warm water felt good as it cascaded down my icy flesh. I felt all dirty. Mentally. How could I possibly think of Will like that? I _never _succumbed to such . . .primitive urges. Never. I've never even kissed a boy in all my sixteen years.

I tried to tell myself that everybody had sex dreams. This hadn't even been a sex dream . . . It was a sex_y _dream. But that was only part of the problem; realizing that I was susceptible to the same primary urges as normal people. The second part of the problem that I had to address that I might possibly have a tiny crush on Will.

The thought alone made me shudder. Okay, so I could vouch that Will was incredibly gorgeous _and _wasn't half bad when he was sober. But that was the problem, rarely was he sober. The kid was a wreck. I didn't know why he was so messed up, but I knew that he truly was messed up. Somebody had to help him, but it wasn't going to be me.

It was just the mystery that he presented, I promised myself. The only reason I was attracted to him was because he was an anomaly, a fascinating exception to my mind reading abilities. _That _and that alone was why I was drawn to him. Well and his good looks . . . But that only affected me because of the mystery.

I scraped strawberry scented shampoo against my scalp, trying to rid myself of the feel of Will's fingers in my hair. I scrubbed soap all over my body, trying to get rid of the feel of Will's body against mine. It had all felt so real. So . . . unreally real.

"Amunet!" my mom's voice overpowered the sound of the rushing water, "Am! What're you doing?"  
"Taking a shower!" I shouted.

"Didn't you take one last night?"  
"Yeah! So?" I called back.

I couldn't hear what she muttered after that, but I knew that it was probably something along the lines of _"kids these days"_ or _"teenagers."_

I got out of the shower and when I saw my naked body in the mirror I wondered how Will would react to seeing me like this. I literally smacked myself across the face after that. What the fuck was _wrong _with me? This hormonal shit was getting annoying.

I dried my body off with a towel before wrapping it around myself. I padded from the bathroom back to my bedroom where I dropped the towel and got dressed. I put on normal clothes for me; grey skinny jeans and a dark green blouse. I put on the new black jacket trimmed in white faux fur. I went back into the bathroom and dried my hair, concentrating on the way it moved when the air lifted it. I then pinned it up in a flawless bun and went back into my room to grab my bag, cellphone, and glasses.

I went downstairs and got my white fur boots out of the closet. I slipped them on and filled Lila's bowl with some dog food before grabbing my keys off the rack and heading into the garage. I got into my car and began my drive to school. All the while trying to concentrate on the road and not those liquidy grey eyes that seemed to swirl underneath his sooty lashes . . . .

I was doing it again, I knew that I was. I couldn't help it though. This was my first crush and I was sixteen. Maybe that was why this seemed so . . . severe. Because I'd been pushing down all these hormonal urges for so many years that they were all bubbling to the surface at once now.

I parked in my usual parking spot and killed the power, stepping out onto the slushy concrete. Thoughts and voices swirled all around me. Ahh . . . That was more like it. I couldn't concentrate on my sick fantasies about Will if I had all _these _distractions. Perfect.

I walked up to the school and sighed blissfully at the chaos. This is what I was comfortable with. Noise and the distractions of teenagers' lives. _Their _hormone induced sexual fantasies. Not mine. That was much simpler. More expected.

"Hellooo Nettie," sung a voice, tapping me on the shoulder. I nearly had a stroke. Because I half expected to feel the hot lips of this speaker against the back of my neck.

I turned around to see Will standing behind me. His grey eyes were bloodshot beneath his dark lashes as expected. The pink shadows beneath his eyes almost seemed normal for him. He was smiling, his pearly white teeth sparkling in the natural light. The tips of his dark shaggy hair that were once dyed red were now dark purple. I could tell that the royal blue sweatshirt he was wearing was new. I hated to admit that I liked it . . . Liked the way the blue brought out the blue in his eyes.

"Hello William," I said stiffly, pushing down the giggly preteen girl inside me that wanted to break free.  
"Awwww you just called me William," he pouted, "That means you're mad at me. My mom and dad call me William when they're mad at me. So do my teachers."

"I'm not mad at you Will-" I said, stuttering over his name because I'd been tempted to say 'William' because it sounded more indifferent. Less personal.  
"Oh good!" he cheered, "So what did _you _get for Christmas? I got this sweatshirt? Do you liiike it? My mom got it for me. She also got me this super fluffy pillow! And she let me dye my hair again. See?" he said, grabbing his hair to demonstrate, "And my mom's boyfriend got me an Xbox to suck up to my mom. What did _you _get?"

"Eh. Stuff," I said, shrugging. I didn't like to brag.  
"Ohhhh stuff!" he enthused.

"Yeah. Very exciting," I mumbled sarcastically.  
"Yep, yep, yep, yep," he said, his grin growing.

Mike ran over then and grabbed Will from behind and ruffled his hair. He was happy to see his best friend after a long week apart.  
"Oh fuck! Help," Will cried, "I'm being attacked! Rape! RAAAAAPPPEEE!"

Mike rolled his eyes. "It's me you dipshit," Mike muttered, smacking him upside the head.  
"Ohhh Mike," he said, "That was a mean trick. I thought you were a rapist!"

"You think everybody's a rapist," he said, sighing, "Remember the lady at McDonalds?"  
"Hey, she had shifty eyes," Will defended himself.

"Because she was _afraid _of you," Mike said, "Because you started _screaming _at her because your french fries weren't 'french' enough."  
"They weren't!" he exclaimed, "They didn't have an accent!"

I blinked in shock.  
"I worry about him," I told Mike. He nodded.

Aaron came over then, sneaking up behind Will. He put a finger to his lips to tell me not to give him away. But I already knew. Aaron tiptoed over to Will and covered his eyes from behind.  
"Guess whooo," he sung.

"Kristy?" Will guessed.  
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Do I _sound _like Kristy?" he demanded.

"Well no . . . But you have the same soft feminine hands . . ." he trailed off.  
Mike and I laughed as Aaron uncovered Will's eyes, offended.

Will turned around and looked at Aaron. "Hey! _You_'re not Kristy! You liar! Feed him to the lions," he shouted, pointing off to the side, "To the lions!"  
Aaron rolled his eyes. "I don't have girl hands," he said.

"Really? Cause Kristy's hands feel just like that," Will said, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.  
"I bet you know _exactly _how Kristy's hands feel," Mike snickered.

Will blinked innocently at him. Whenever he was high he was very dense. "I do," he said unknowingly.  
All three of us rolled our eyes at the same time.

See? This was the kind of behavior that assured me that I couldn't possibly _truly _have a thing for Will.


	13. Lyin' Girl

**_Lyin' Girl_**

I let my eyelids droop closed, letting the thoughts of the room fade to a hum. I hadn't sleep well for over a week. Every night it was more dreams. And they weren't just smutty dreams about Will either. No these dreams were _creepy. _I hardly ever dreamed at all before, but now I dreamed every single night. They kept me up sometimes, disrupting my sleep and putting me in an even fouler mood then usual. The cafeteria was loud and chaotic, but I drifted to sleep anyway.

_In the dream I was standing in the middle of some sort of arena. There was sand below my bare feet and the amphitheater like stadium seats surrounding me were empty. There was a sort of throne like place perched high above the rest of the seats, like were the Roman emperors used to sit to watch the gladiators. The sitting area was adorned in colorful silk curtains and sitting on a gold throne inside of it was none other then Will. He was dressed normally for the most part; jeans and a blood red hoodie. On his head was a gold crown. He was smiling a sharp toothed smile, looking down at me. _

_"We don't tolerate traitors here Amunet," he said, looking like he was having a gleefully good time, "Not in my kingdom."  
"Your kingdom?" I demanded, raising an eyebrow and putting my hands on my hips. The fabric there felt strange. I looked down to see that I was dressed in a skimpy white toga with a gold rope around my waist. My dark hair was down, flowing freely past my shoulders. Curious as to what else was different, I touched the skin under my eye. No glasses. Yet I could see fine. _

_"Yes. _My _kingdom," he said, seeming annoyed that I found that so outrageous. "And in my kingdom we don't tolerate traitors like yourself."  
"What exactly did _I _do that was so 'trecherous?'" I snapped. _

_"Falsely accusing your majesty," he said, smirking.  
"You mean you?" _

_"Of course I mean me," he growled, rolling his eyes.  
"What did I 'falesly accuse' you of exactly?" I demanded. _

_"Of being something other then human," he said with a dangerously pointed smile.  
"Why would I say that? Of course you're a human," I said with a roll of my eyes, "What else would you be? A flying squirrel?" _

_He flashed that deadly smile again. "And now you lie, denying your crime," he said, "And I don't tolerate liars either."  
"Oh yeah? Is that so? Then what do you do with these 'interloerable people' exactly?" I demanded. _

_Even though I was so far away from him, I could see ever contour of his face perfectly. His stormy eyes flashed dangerously with excitement at me while he smiled a razor sharp smile.  
"I feed them," he said, "To the lions."_

_I stood frozen when I heard a deep rumbling growl coming from behind me. My breathing caught in my throat and it felt like my heart stopped beating. Very slowly I turned around to see a hole in the wall with iron bars in front of it. Out of the darkness behind the bars I could see a glowing pair of yellow eyes. _

_I felt my eyes widened as I took a frightened step back, putting my hands up to protect myself automatically even though I knew it was useless. The cage bars lifted and out stalked a huge lion the color of desert sand with a full dark orange colored mane. It's paws looked like they were the size of my face. Terror filled me as I took another step back. _

_Will's voice drifted down to me, sounding like he was just behind me. I could even feel his cool breath tickling the back of my neck. Which was impossible, because he was just at the throne a moment ago.  
"To the lions," he whispered. _

_And then the lion pounced. _

I woke up with a start. Breathing hard, I lifted my head off of the table and fixed my glasses. I was at lunch with noise all around me. The little clique that I was a (surprising) full fledged member of was seated around me. All except Will. He'd been missing for school for the last three days. Mike had said something about him getting into some kind of accident over the weekend . . .

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Kristy sneered. She tolerated me but she was still bitchy by nature.  
"Oh fuck off," I muttered irritably, "I haven't been sleeping well. I keep having these really freaky dreams."

"I can tell," Aaron said, "You kept muttering in your sleep. Something like 'take me Aaron, take me now.' I have to say, I considered granting your wish."  
I snorted and rolled my eyes. "We've had this conversation before Aaron," I snapped, "I don't want to have sex with you."

"Your subconscious says differently," he said, waggling his eyebrows.  
I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat.

Everyone laughed briefly before their thoughts shifted. I knew who was standing behind me before his arrival was announced.  
"Hey Billy what're you doing here?" Mike asked, "I thought you were staying home another day."

I didn't turn to look at Will but I could see him in the others' minds. The area next to his left eye was all bruised, stretching all the way down to his cheek. He seemed sober . . . Which I found odd, seeing as I'd never once seen him sober during school in the last seven weeks I'd been here.

"I got bored," he whined, "And lonely."  
He sat down next to me but I still avoided meeting his eyes directly.

"So where ya been the past few days?" Aaron asked.  
"Yeah what happened to you this time?" Heather wondered.

"I was helping my dad shovel the driveway at his house on Sunday and slipped on some ice and hit my head," he said, lifting his bangs to reveal that the area above his left eye was heavily bruised as well. Stretching all the way from his eyebrow to his hairline.

"Ohhh," Kristy said, "Does it hurt?"  
"At first, but not anymore. When I got home from my dad's that night my mom spazzed and brought me to the hospital," he said, "Slight concussion. I'm fine though. I had to stay overnight but my mom made me stay home today too. I got bored though."

"Is it possible for you to go to your dad's house and _not _come back hurt?" Mike wondered.  
That's when I realized that Will only ever really got hurt after spending the weekend at his dad's. I didn't think anything of it though. He'd said that he didn't like staying at his dad's. So he probably self medicated more then usual when he was there, hence the frequent accidents.

He thought about it for a minute. "No," he decided.  
I met his eyes for a quick moment, unsure of why. I shivered, remembering those eyes staring down at me in my dreams. His voice whispering to me . . .

_"To the lions . . ."_


	14. Stupid Girl

**Stupid Girl**

It was the last Saturday in January. It was bitterly cold out and I was on my way back to my car. I'd driven far from the center of town, to a more secluded area. I'd gone to a run down little gypsy shop to find a gift for my mother's birthday. I'd gotten her an anhk necklace; it was sort of a like a cross only with a circle for a top. It was an Egyptian symbol of eternal life and protection. My grandmother was obsessed with them, and I knew my mother and I would get a laugh out of it. She'd probably like it too.

There was no parking in front of the store, so I'd been forced to park in the lot in front of an old warehouse across the street. I was almost across the street when I heard thoughts approaching. Malicious, self-centered, selfish thoughts. Male thoughts, obviously. Accompanied by three male voices.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with people like that, so I quickened my pace to get to my car. I wasn't running, because I was too dignified to run, but I was going a little faster then was typical for me. I was almost to my car when they approached, wandering around the corner. I considered running but decided it was better to ignore them. I slowed my pace to appear casual.

I heard their new thoughts and knew what they were saying in their hushed voices. They could tell that I had money on me. Based on my expensive looking clothes, bag, and car. One thought it would be fun to just casually mug me so they could buy more beer.

I wasn't a stupid girl, but I was too proud. My muscles told me to run for my car, surely I could make it, but my brain wouldn't let me. I was too proud to run away like some frightened little girl. I'd rather put up a fight, even if it meant they got my money in the end. When fight or flight syndrome kicked in, for me, the choice was always fight. No matter the obstacle.

I proceeded to my car with deliberate, even strides and my head held high. I kept my eyes on my car about twenty feet away. Even when one called to me.  
"Hey sweetheart!" he yelled. I didn't look at him. They were just five feet away now.

He crossed the distance between us easily, using his long athletic legs. He grabbed my arm.  
"Hey," he snarled, "I'm talking to you dollface."

I pulled my arm out of his hand immediately. "Were you now?" I snarled sharply. I gave him a glare and his thoughts conveyed that he found it only slightly intimidating. He wasn't afraid of me. I was small afterall, not to mention a girl.

"Yeah I was," he growled. His name was Rick.  
"Hey hey Rick," said another guy named Milo, stepping forward, "There's no need to harass such a . . . lovely young lady."

He was a smooth talker, I knew. Well if he _really _thought he could weasel money out of me _willingly_, then he was just stupid.  
"Then why don't you three . . . lovely little motherfuckers leave me the hell alone?" I suggested in a sweet tone.

"She's got a mouth on her," the third guy, Paul, said, stepping forward, "I could put that to good use."  
I clenched my fists at his thoughts. I would first beat myself senseless with a hot waffle iron. Or better yet, beat him with it.

"Now now now Paul," Milo said smoothly with a sinister smirk, putting a hand on Paul's chest, "Let's not be vulgar. We just wanted to know if the lovely lady would like to buy us all some drinks."  
"You've got to be kidding me," I said, giving them a challenging look. This guy was even worse then the other two. He _actually _thought I would hand over my money willingly out of fear. No way in hell.

"Not at all," he said, smiling maliciously, "Just give us some money and nobody gets hurt."  
"Oh somebody's getting hurt," I snarled, "But it _isn't_ going to be me."

"You wanna bet?" Rick snarled in my face, grabbing my arm roughly.  
I glared up at him with icy hatred. "Yes I do," I hissed, "I'll bet you all the money in my purse that I could walk away after a fight with all of you. And you three would crawl away. . . If you could that is."

Since moving to Hollow Creek, I hadn't been as creepy and hostile as I used to be. I had it better here then in most places. But that didn't mean I was like a normal girl. I was still cynical, and I still kept Cold Amunet in the back of my mind . . . Ready to unleash her on anyone who fucked with me.

"You've got yourself a bet dollface," Rick snarled, about to push me. I moved out of the way at the last second and waked him over the head with my purse when he stumbled. He howled and clutched at his head. I knew it would hurt. I kept a rock in there at all times; it might be heavier but it made a hell of a weapon during times like this.

Paul reached to grab my arm and I dodged swiftly, even when Milo reached for me a second late. They all kept coming at me, again and again, in succession. Their efforts were futile. I knew exactly what they would do before they even did it. They got in a few lucky shots, but nothing that would faze me.

But that didn't mean I held all the cards. I was still outnumbered. And when Paul came for me and I leaped away, inadvertently slipping on black ice, the odds shifted slightly. While I tried to steady myself, Milo grabbed my purse. I didn't let go, although I should've. But if I did, then they won. And that was unacceptable.

So I held on for dear life. Even as Milo used it to swing me into the side of my car. If only I had the alarm on. Or it was unlocked, but the keys were in my bag. Milo pinned me there, staring down at me and panting, his thoughts swimming with malice at having trapped me.

"You put up a nice fight little girl. But how about you just let go of the bag and nobody gets hurt, huh?" he offered, breathing down my neck literally.  
"How about you gauge your own eyes out with a rusty fork?" I suggested sweetly.

"She's impossible. I say we take what we want," Paul joined in, looking at me over Milo's shoulder with a twisted grin, "By force."  
"Bite me," I snapped.

"Where?" he asked, the twisted grin growing.  
"In your dreams," I snarled at him.

"That's it," Rick said, coming up behind Milo, "Give us the fucking purse before I fucking pound you into the pavement."  
"Looks like _somebody _has anger issues," I muttered.

"Okay now _that _is fucking it," he growled, "I'm gonna make her regret not giving us the fucking money!"  
"I'm gonna make her regret being such a bad little girl," Paul chimed in, smirking.

"I'd like to see you try," I hissed, "If you ask me, you're just a group of whiny little pussies who have to target 'defensless' teenage girls at night to make you feels like badasses."  
"Alright, I've had enough. Have at it," Milo said, releasing me and stepping back.

_"You brought this on yourself," _he thought.

Paul and Rick closed in on me and I prepared myself to bludgeon them with my purse. But then a blaring sound rang through the night. It was my car alarm. But that didn't make sense. It wasn't set to go off unless someone managed to open the door when it was locked . . .

"Aw fuck!" Paul yelled.  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Rick exclaimed, covering his ears.

"Come on idiots!" Milo shouted, "Before someone comes running!"  
The other two took off but he hesitated, oddly enough. He looked at something above my head and made a face. He pulled his lips back from his teeth at whatever he saw, before running off as well. The blaring noise made it impossible to get a read on his thoughts.

Confused and surprised and creeped out _all at the same time_, I fumbled in my purse for my keys. I shut off the alarm before somebody came out to investigate. I sighed once the aggravating noise stopped, and leaned back heavily against the car for a second.

"Not the best night for a stroll is it?"

Nearly having a fucking heart attack, I jumped away from the car and spun around. Standing on top of my car was Will. He didn't seem high at all, and it wasn't _that _surprising. For the last three weeks, he'd been coming to school sober at least once, sometimes even twice a week. The entire school was baffled by it; most of the student body hadn't seen him sober since seventh grade. I however was more baffled by how the fuck he got on top of my car.

"What the fuck are you doing up there?" I demanded.  
"The question is Nettie, what are _you _doing _here_?" he said, "It's not a very nice neighborhood you know."

I'd noticed.  
"What the fuck are you doing on top of my car?" I repeated my question, editing it slightly.

"I just thought I'd drop by and you know, save your ass," he said. One thing I'd noticed, Will was a lot more closed off and sarcastic when he was sober.  
I ignored that. _"How _the fuck did you get on top of my car?" I demanded.

He didn't answer me. He just rolled his eyes and jumped off the car. Not the kind of graceful movement you expected from the Will the klutzy stoner.  
"Okay, what the fuck is going on here?" I exclaimed, "Is this some kind of fucking joke?"

"Are you trying to include the word 'fuck' in every single sentence?" he wondered, "Or is it just a happy accident?"  
"Stop being all mysterious," I snapped, "It's fucking annoying."

"There's that word again. Anyway, let's see what we have here," he said, giving me a once over, "No blood . . . Those marks on your arm are going to bruise though. You're lips are starting to turn blue. You've been out in the cold too long. C'mon, get in the car. Give me the keys."

I was indigdant. What did he think he was doing? Bossing me around? Telling me to give him _my _keys? But he'd been right about me being cold. I was freezing actually, now that I had a chance to think about it. I desperately wanted to get in my car where it was warm. I also wanted to drive myself home, but my body felt sore. Those bastards had gotten in a few lucky shots.

"But you can't drive," I stammered out through my chattering teeth. I hated myself for it.  
"Yes I can," he said.

"You don't have a licence," I insisted, "You don't even have a permit."  
"I know that," he said, "That doesn't mean I can't drive."

"Wha . . . " I trailed off, barely finishing the word.  
"C'mon. Just give me the keys and I'll take you back to my dad's house to warm up," he promised.

"No. Take me home," I partially succumbed.  
"My dad's house is closer. Besides, aren't you hungry?" he asked.

Now that he mentioned it . . .  
"So?" I asked.

"Isn't your mother away on a business trip?" he asked. He only knew that because I'd mentioned it at lunch. I was surprised he remembered.  
"So?" I said again.

"So don't you want to eat?" he said, "Come on. We both know you can't cook for your life."  
Well when he's right, he's right. Even though I hate to admit it.

"And you can?" I snapped, avoiding the question.  
"Actually yes," he said, "Now c'mon."

"Oh fine," I said finally, handing him my keys, "But only cause I'm fucking tired."  
"If you say so . . . " he trailed off, getting in the driver seat. I got in the passenger seat. Now it might seem stupid to get into a car with someone who you _knew _didn't have a licence. But somehow I believed that he knew how to drive. He was probably just too damn lazy to get his license.

He started the car and turned the heat on before backing out of the parking lot with ease. When we got on the road, he continued to drive smoothly. He stopped at all the stop signs, obeyed all speed limits, and had his hands on ten and two at all times. I was shocked to say the least.

There was no conversation at first. I was too busy waiting for the heat to kick in, clutching my purse protectively in my lap. But once the heat started to warm me up, I thought of something. Why had my car alarm gone off before? It shouldn't have unless . . .

"You set off the alarm, didn't you?" I realized.  
He looked at me briefly out of the corner of his eye. "Well somebody had to," he said wryly.

"How did you do it?" I demanded.  
"I've told you before Nettie," he said, "I'm not as much of an idiot when I'm sober."

"You're fucking creepy when you're sober," I informed him.  
He rolled his eyes. "I know you don't really think that."

_"Oh are you suddenly a mind reader too?" _I thought bitterly.  
"Now do you?" I snapped aloud.

He didn't say anything but proceeded to pull off into a driveway in front of a nice house. It wasn't big. Small actually. It looked like the second floor was probably only half a floor. But it was still surprisingly nice. A quaint little porch out front, a stone path leading to it, a shiny red _Traverse _parked in the driveway. It wasn't a palace. But much nicer then I expected. I felt guilty for thinking it, but I'd always imagined Will living in a dump.

"Nobody's home," he told me as he parked my car, "My dad took my stepmom out to dinner. My stepbrothers out ruining somebody else's day by now too. So you don't have to worry."  
I was relieved but I didn't let it show. "Why would I?" I snapped.

He rolled his eyes for the millionth time. I was getting kind of annoyed. _He _didn't have the right to roll his eyes at anybody. Most of the time he acted like the energizer body on crystal meth. But on the rare occasions when he wasn't high, he was very . . . strange. Closed off, creepy, cryptic. Anybody who'd only seen Will high before would think this grim kid _must _be a different person.

He got out of the car and I followed. He began walking towards the stone path, locking the car without looking back. I followed after him.  
"So where'd you hit your head that time when you slipped?" I asked, recalling that he'd gotten a concussion after falling out here a few weeks ago.

"There," he said immediately, pointing to a random spot as he passed it.  
I didn't say anything. I just silently followed him up the stone path to the front door. He paused for the briefest of seconds before opening the door.

"You don't lock the door when you go out?" I asked, indignant. What a stupid thing to do . . .  
"What makes you think we don't lock it?" he asked, stepping inside the house.

He'd officially just surpassed me on the creepy scale . . . And that was saying something.

Inside, the house was nice. Cozy and normal. No extravagant furniture, no signs of poverty. It was perfectly middle class. Unlike my house, it looked like people actually lived there. There was a coat rack with various coats on it next to the door. We were in the living room and there was a heap of folded blankets on the couch and two empty glasses on the coffee.

Will closed the door behind us without locking it. But I could hear the tumblers moving inside the door as if he had. I jumped. Will didn't seem to notice anything strange. He casually hung up his _Northface _jacket, leaving his shoes on. I kept my jacket on. Will didn't comment.

"C'mon," he said and I followed him through an archway to a quaint looking kitchen.  
"Sit," he told me, gesturing at the table.

Snorting, I gave him a challenging look.  
He returned the look impressively well. "You just gonna stand there?"

"Where's the bathroom?" I asked, ignoring him.  
"First door on the left," he told me, pointing in the general direction, turning away to get items out of the fridge.

"Thanks," I said before I realized what I was actually doing. _Thanking Will . . . _Oh God what had gotten into me?_  
_"I'm making you eggs," he said. Telling, not asking.

I followed his directions to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Good God, I looked horrible. My cheeks were flushed, my nose red, my lips pale, my hair half out of it's bun. Sighing, I took the rest of my hair out of the bun. I put the clip back in my back and ran my fingers through my hair to to settle it. I took off my glasses and cleaned the lenses on the bottom of my shirt before putting them back on.

Making a distasteful sound in the back of my throat, I left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen. Will was at the counter, whisking eggs with a fork. I knew all the terms for cooking from listening to my mother's thoughts, but for some reason I just couldn't remember recipes to save my life. It was like my brain didn't want to be stereotypical woman, so it made it impossible for me to cook.

"Sit," he told me without turning around. Rolling my eyes, I complied. I watched Will prepare the meal with an odd feeling. Sitting in such a cozy kitchen, the only sound being the hum of the fridge and the sound of Will cooking . . . It gave me a nice . . . homey feeling. One I wasn't used to. My mother and I were always rattling around our big, lonely house.

"Orange juice or milk?" he asked aloud before answering it himself, "Orange juice."  
"How'd you know. . ." I trailed off.

"Intuition," he said, pouring a glass of orange juice. He placed a plate of eggs and the glass in front of me. He sat down across from me without any food and stared at me.  
"You're not going to eat?" I asked, staring down at my eggs.

"It's eleven o'clock at night . . . _I _already ate," he said simply.  
I avoided meeting his eyes and just ate my eggs. They weren't burned or anything, like I expected Will's food to be. It was okay actually.

It was silent between us for a while. Sober Will didn't seem to be inclined much to speak unless he had something to say. As opposed to high Will who just rambled like crazy about random shit until somebody smacked him.

"Don't you ever wonder about the things you can do . . ." Will trailed off.  
I froze with the fork halfway to my mouth. He couldn't possibly know . . .

"What . . . I can . . . do?" I stammered out in shock.  
He gave me an intolerant look through his sooty lashes. "Don't be stupid Nettie," he said.

Despite my shock, I still had the capacity to be outraged. "I am _not _stupid!" I exclaimed.  
He rolled his eyes. "I'm aware," he said.

I stared at him wide-eyed. There was no way he could know that I could read minds . . .  
"Haven't you ever wondered how it was possible," he went on.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted.  
He gave me another one of his intolerant looks. "Suit yourself. But haven't you ever wished their was someone else like you?"

"There's _nobody _like me," I practically snarled. I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.  
He smirked at me. "You are one of a kind Nettie," he agreed.

"That's right," I growled.  
"_But _that doesn't mean you're the only one of _your _kind," he went on.

"My _kind_?" I demanded, "Is that like a racist thing? Cause I never met anyone prejudiced against Egyptians . . ."  
He exhaled in exasperation. "Not _at all_ what I meant," he said and suddenly an annoying whistling sound went off.

Startled, I looked up at the sound of the noise. The whistling was coming from the teapot on the stove. Only the stove hadn't been on when I looked over there a minute ago.  
"Wha . . ." I trailed off, looking at Will expectantly.

Will smirked back at me and raised his eyebrows challengingly.  
"Did you . . ." I asked in shock, "Did you . . . do that?"

His smirk grew. "Now, how could I _possibly _do that?"  
"You're fucking creeping me out," I told him.

He ignored me. "Feeling better now?" he asked.  
"I was until you started speaking again," I informed him.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to you go home now," he said, "My dad's going to be home soon. Somehow I doubt you want to stick around for that."  
"You're right," I snapped, grabbing my purse and standing up, "Thank you for the meal William. That was very kind of you, but now I will be returning home."

"Make sure you lock your doors," he told me casually without getting up.  
I looked at him, huffed in impatience, and stomped out.

He was fucking creeping me out, and that takes a lot.


	15. Special Girl

**Special Girl**

Part of me wanted to confront Will and demand that he tell me what was going on. The other part wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Which is how I ended up spending my Sunday pacing around my house restlessly. I went over my encounter with Will over and over again in my head dozens of times; trying to remember every tiny detail. If I remembered every detail, I'd be able to put all the pieces together and make sense of this mess. I had to figure out what was going on and I had to do it on my own.

First thing, Will wasn't as simple as I'd originally thought. Stoner kid, child of divorce, father issues, son of the town whore; right? Simple. Or at least it should've been. Sadly it wasn't. Will was a lot more complicated then that.

Second thing, he was like me. Based on his suspicious behavior yesterday and the cryptic comments, I had reason to believe he was like me. Maybe not a mind reader, but something. He could do things normal people couldn't do. _"Don't you ever wish there was someone else like you? . . . You're one of a kind Nettie . . . But not the only one of _your _kind." _My kind? Did he mean people who could do unexplainable things?

Third thing, he knew. He knew my secret. He'd hinted at it, several times. _"Don't you ever wonder about what you can do . . . Don't you ever wonder how it's possible . . ." _He'd made it plainly obvious, on purpose. He _wanted _me to know that he knew. _"Don't be stupid Nettie . . ."_

But what was I supposed to do about about it all? Talk to Will about it? Ask him what was going on and share supernatural experiences with him? Did I _want _to do that? Did I want to have someone else who was like me?

I knew the answer to that last one already. I _did _want someone else like me. I wanted to know there was another person out there who could do _things _like me. I wanted to feel like I wasn't alone. Like I wasn't a freak of nature. I did want that. I just didn't want it to be Will.

I spent all of Sunday mulling over all of this, until late at night. I had laid awake in bed, thinking, until finally passing out around two in the morning. I woke up late and was about to get ready in a rush before realizing, what did I care? So what if I was late? I'd never been late to school and you know what, I deserved to daudle a bit once in a while.

So I took my time getting ready. I even dressed up a little bit more, just for fun. A black skirt, a grey button-up silk blouse, and black knee high socks to keep my calfs from freezing. I did my hair up as always, but this time in a long black braid that fell all the way down my back, and tied it with a little grey ribbon.

I wore my hair up, as I always did. But today in a long black braid that reached all the way down my back. I considered wearing my contacts but decided against it, and put my glasses on. I slipped on my ballet flats and my black jacket before grabbing my bag, and leaving.

By the time I got to school, it was well into first period. Still, I took my time to park my car and walk up to the school. I went inside and the hallways were empty, everyone already in class. I stopped at my locker and put some of my books away before leisurely heading to my first period class.

I was suddenly grabbed by someone. A warm hand clamped over my mouth and another one snaked around my waist. I was suddenly yanked by someone into some room before I heard a door slam. I struggled against whoever had grabbed me as I realized I was in a closet. I tried to yell against the hand as I thrashed.

"Easy Nettie," Will's voice whispered in my ear.  
No longer concerned, just annoyed, I prepared myself to elbow him in the stomach. But he'd already let me go. My immediate reaction was to try and get away from him, so I ended up throwing myself into the door, my glasses slamming into my face.

"Shit," I muttered, taking my glasses off to rub my eyes. I shook my head to clear it, my braid whipping back and forth. I exhaled loudly in annoyance, turning to face Will. He was barely a foot away from me in the cramped space. It was dim, but I could see him perfectly do to how close we were and the light coming in through the slits in the door. His dark brown purple tipped hair fell into his grey smoldering eyes. There were no visible bruises that I could see.

"You should wear your contacts more often," he said, "Instead of hiding behind your glasses. You're too pretty to hide."  
I snorted and put my glasses back on without a word.

"Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn," he noted.  
I scowled at him. "I'm leaving," I told him and turned around.

There was a clicking sound and when I tried the door, it was locked. I sighed, unsurprised.  
"If I'm staying here, you better do some explaining," I growled.

"Very well then," he said, "I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough."  
"I suppose you have," I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I know that you've figured some things out," he began, "And you know that I've figured some things out. For instance, how you can read minds."  
I wasn't surprised. I'd considered this. "You couldn't have known," I said, "Unless you were a mind reader too."

"Mind reader is too narrow a term," he said, "What we are has many other, more broad, titles."  
"Like what?"

He looked up at me through his dark lashes, only the look wasn't sexy like it usually was. It was intimidating. It was meant to be.  
"Energy predators," he told me, "Energy parasites. Energivores. They're all common terms. But that's not what I like to call us."

"What do you like to call us then?" I asked shakily, getting kind of freaked out.  
"Vampires," he said, lifting his eyes to meet mine full on, "Psychic vampires."

"Vampires?" I choked out, "You expect me to believe that you're a _vampire_?"  
"I expect you to believe that _we're _vampires," he corrected, "Because it's true."

"I think I would know if I was a _vampire,_" I managed.  
"No you wouldn't. You're thinking of bloodsucking, sun-phobic, anemic vampires. That's not what we are. We're _psychic _vampires. Psionic vampires, empathetic vampires, pranic vampires. _Energy vampires."_

"What does it mean though?"  
"It means that we can do things normal people can't do. We have enhanced mental abilities. Mind reading, telekinesis, precognition, physcometry, so on an so forth," he went on.

"B-but why the term vampire?" I asked, too surprised to even be angry that I was stammering.  
"Well, you know what a vampire does? It feeds off of human blood. Well a psychic vampire is someone who feeds off of psychic energy from other people," he said.

"But - I don't do that . . ." I trailed off.  
"Yes you do. You just don't realize it," he said. "Don't worry. You're not hurting anybody by doing it. Most people have such a small amount of psychic energy that they can't even use it."

"How do you know all of this?" I demanded, leaning heavily against the door. I just couldn't believe I was a vampire. Even a psychic vampire.  
"Before I moved here, my mother took me to this institute for supernatural studies. I learned all the terms there. I was supposed to be apart of some study but my mother said no," he said.

"What is it that you do exactly?" I asked, "You read minds? Because you never answered that."  
"I read minds, I move objects without touching them, I get visions, I can project thoughts . . . All psychic vampires can," he said.

"Well then I must not be a psychic vampire," I said, "Because I only read minds."  
"You're not listening to me. I said that all physic vampires _can _do these things. As in they are capable of it. If they try," he informed me, "Which I bet you never have."

"Then how do I read minds? I've never _tried _to. I've just always been able," I said.  
"It's because it's your affinitive skill. The skill you just have a natural aptitude for. Like I've always been telekinetic," he said.

_"That's _how you did all that stuff!" I exclaimed, "Like locking the doors, and turning on the stove, and setting off my car alarm!"  
"Yes," he said simply.

"How come I've never seen you do any stuff like that before?" I asked.  
"Because most of the time, I'm high. And being high numbs psychic abilities," he informed me.

I mulled over that for a minute and then I realized something. "You can't read my mind, can you?" It wasn't exactly a question. More like an assumption.  
"One mind reader can't read another mind readers mind," he said, "It would be impossible. If I read your mind, I would get a reflection of my thoughts, getting a reflection of your thoughts. And so on and so forth. If it were possible, it would probably knock us both out."

I gave myself a moment to process. I mulled over everything I'd just learned in my head. I was a psychic vampire. I fed off of people's psychic energy and I had even more vast abilities then I had thought possible. And, most importantly, I wasn't alone. There were other people like me. So many that they had actual terms for it. Actual studies.

But I still had one question. Why had Will told me all this?

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked.  
"The first time I saw you when I was sober, I knew you were like me. Because I couldn't read your mind," he said. "But I could tell that you didn't really know what you were. But that you had a right to."

"Why did you wait to tell me?" I asked.  
"Because I didn't know you well enough yet," he explained, "And I knew you wouldn't believe me. I had to wait for you to come to conclusions by yourself. And then I could just confirm them."

"I just have one more question," I told him. "Why do you do drugs?"  
"I know that as a mind reader you're unconsciously curious about other peoples' lives," he said tightly, his voice a near hiss, "But _that _is none of your business."

I nearly shrunk back from his anger, but I didn't. I'd never seen Will really mad. And never at me.  
"You can leave now," he said and I heard the door unlock.

Numbly, I reached behind me and grabbed the handle. I turned it and backed out of the closet, tripping over something and half stumbling out. I steadied myself and looked up to see Heather standing _right there_. She had a yellow note in her hand and I knew that she was acting as a messenger for Mr. Balin. She was surprised to see me tripping out of the supply closet.

"Nettie?" she asked, "What were you doing in there just now?"  
_"She couldn't have . . ." _she thought, not able to even picture _me _of all people doing something like that with anybody.

And then Will casually strolled out after me, smirking to himself. Like he knew what Heather was thinking. Because he did.

Her jaw hit the floor, to say the least. "You two weren't just . . ." she trailed off in shock.  
Will smirked.

"No," I snapped, stomping away. I could hear Heather's confused and astonished thoughts, and Will laughing probably at my outrage. I stalked away in a random direction, aware that I was going the wrong way but too dignified to turn around and pass them again. So I kept on walking, deciding to go down to the cafeteria and get myself a muffin and a mocha; ditch first period and hang out in study hall. That way I could mull over everything I'd just learned.

Needless to say, I had a lot to think about.


	16. Determined Girl

**Determined Girl**

It had been virtually easy to come to terms with what I had learned. The only part that had been mildly disturbing was how I took energy from others, but if it was the kind of energy they couldn't use anyway, what did it matter? The rest was actually pleasant to think of. For example, how I now knew that my strange abilities weren't _completely _unheard of. It was also kind of exciting to think that there were other abilities I had yet to discover. Sure mind reading was a drag, but the others sounded quite interesting.

I had done a little research online about psychic vampires, trying to drudge up some information that might be useful for my quest to expand my abilities. It had all been in vain though, sadly. Everything I found as entirely unhelpful. There were a lot of things about psychic vampires but none of it pertaining to the kind that I was. All that I had found had pertained mostly to 'emotional' vampires; people who 'seem' to drain positive energy from people around them because of their negative qualities. There had been little about the kind of vampire I was, and what little I had found could possibly be false. There was only one person I knew who would have accurate answers.

Will. As much as I hated to admit it, he had more experience and knowledge on this matter then I did. He'd been to an actual institution for this kind of study and had met with actual professionals. As he had demonstrated several times, he not only knew a lot about energy vampires, but he also had explored many of the possible mental skills I hoped to posses.

By Thursday, I had decided that risking my pride was worth learning more about what I was and what I could do. I had decided to ask Will for help. Unfortunately though, ever since Tuesday, he'd been as high as a kite. I'd been disappointed to see that he was also high on Friday, meaning I would have to wait until at least Monday to see if he'd be sober enough to help me then. However, I was not a very patient person, so after school on Friday I tried to have a conversation with a very high Will. Not the best idea usually.

He hadn't been around after school and neither were my other friends. I knew where they were; having a mini tailgating party in the parking lot of the old abandoned warehouse downtown. I'd been invited but had declined, not up for ditching last period for a party I wouldn't enjoy. I had told Heather I would stop by after school ended, only because I knew Will would be there though. He'd be high, surely, but if I could get through to him for just a minute perhaps I could plan for a meeting at a time when he wasn't stoned.

I drove down to the warehouse parking lot, the same lot where I'd nearly been mugged. I didn't have good memories of this place, but they weren't exactly bad either. Besides, it was hardly scary in the middle of the afternoon, especially today.

The large lot had a few cars clustered together off to one side. I recognized Mike's van but none of the other cars. They all belonged to kids of different schools, kids who were friendly with Will's crowd. There were only five cars and about twenty people. I parked my car a space away from the last car in the line and stepped out.

I recognized a few faces and voices immediately. Mike had the trunk of his van open and was sitting in it with Heather perched on his lap of course. Sitting next to them, sideways so that he was facing them and leaning against the inside wall of the car, was Aaron with a cigarette between his fingers and a look of boredom on his face. Juliet was giggling and smiling a lot as she flirted and shared a beer with a guy I didn't recognize. Sitting on the ground around a little trashcan fire, passing around a joint with some kids I didn't know, was Kristy, seeming depressed.

The only person I didn't see was Will, which was strange, because I knew he was here. Somewhere. Although I couldn't read his mind, I could still read everybody else's minds. And I knew that a number of the people here had had recent encounters with Will. I just had to figure out where he went. I could search the thoughts of everyone here until I found someone who was in his immediate presence, but that took a lot of time. Asking Heather where he was was much easier.

I approached Heather and she smiled her trademark metal-mouth smile up at me.  
"Hi Nettie," she chirped, "Isn't this cool? We do this sometimes on nicer days."

I suppose forty degrees is a considerably 'nicer' day for February.  
"Yeah sure," I said, "Do you know where Will is? I have to talk to him."

Her thoughts went back to Monday, when she'd seen Will and I walking out of a supply closet together. I'd explained to her already that we'd just had something we needed to discuss in private. She'd believed me, but she was beginning to get suspicious of what we talked about alone so much. That suspicion flared again now.

She jerked a thumb to the car next to us. I homed in on the thoughts of the car's inhabitants. I was only in the girl's mind for a second and I still had a horribly perfect vision of what was going on inside of the car. It wasn't too bad - just some making out and groping. Still, I knew it would progress from there.

I pulled away from her mind immediately, shuddering but not from the cold. Still, I was determined to talk to him.  
"Nettie?" Heather asked as I walked away, "Nettie what are you doing?"

I ignored her and marched over to the car that housed the aforementioned activities. I considered throwing the door open and causing a scene but decided against it. Instead, I politely rapped on the steamed up window and waited. After a moment of confusion inside the car, the window rolled down and the girl poked her head out.

Her name was Zoey and she was not pleased. She was scowling at me in annoyance, in fact. Her unnaturally red-dyed hair was all mussed and her heavy eyeliner was smudging. The strings of the corset she wore were undone, forcing her to hold up her weather-inappropriate top.

"Kinda busy in here," she hissed.  
"I need to speak with Will," I said in a stern voice, ignoring her.

_"Aw fuck, is this his girlfriend?" _she thought, _"Does he have a girlfriend? Shit I don't know . . . She seems pissed enough for a chick who just found out her boyfriend is cheating on her. I don't think she's pretty enough to be his girlfriend though. He's way too hot for her. More my speed . . ."_

I tuned out her overly narcissistic thoughts. Conceded whore.  
"Excuse me," I hissed when she didn't answer quick enough, "I need to speak to Will _now. _Don't make me repeat myself again."

She gave me a sneer and I returned it with a much more potent glare. She rolled her eyes and pretended not to be intimidated. She pulled herself back into the car and rolled the window back up. She told Will that there was a girl outside the car looking for him and after a minute or two, Will came out of the other door.

I rounded the car to go face to face with him. He was pulling his _Northface _on over a grey t-shirt as he closed the door behind him. His dark hair was more mussed then usual, his bangs nearly covering his tired, bloodshot, pink shadowed eyes. When he saw me, he smiled hugely at me.

"Nettie!" he exclaimed happily, grabbing me in a hug before I even had a chance to react. He spun me around once before placing me back down.  
"Don't _ever _do that again," I snapped at me.

"But it's so much fun Nettie . . . ," he whined. "Nettie. . . Nettie Nettie bo bettie, banana fanna fo fettie, fee fy mo mettie, Nettie!"  
I scowled. I hated the name game.

"Are you quite finished?" I snapped.  
"Nope, nope, nope," he sung, "Nope, dope, rope."

"I swear to God if you don't stop ryming so help me God I'll-"  
"Slope, mope, pope!" he went on, interupting me mid-sentence.

"William," I growled angrily.  
"William William bo billiam, banana fanna fo filliam, fee fy mo milliam, William!" he continued.

"Will!" I exclaimed angrily. Rarely did I get so angry with people that I actually raised my voice, but Will was just _so fucking annoying _sometimes, that I couldn't help it.  
He hushed up and looked at me with his head tilted to the side slightly. "Si senorita?" he asked, "Senorita Rosita Chiquita Juanita."

"Stop it," I said firmly.  
He pressed his lips together to keep from giggling, I could tell.

"I just need you to listen to me for approximately five seconds," I said, "Can you do that?"  
"Maybeeee," he said, "Do I get a prize if I do?"

"Yes. I'll give you a million dollars if you can remember this conversation a week from now," I said in a sarcastic voice, knowing he never would.  
"Yay! I think I'm gonna buy a pony . . . No, no, no, wait! Hold everything! I'll buy a unicorn! No wait! Even better! A . . . T-Rexicorn! A unicorn-dinosaur super hyrbrid!" he rambled on.

"Will," I said mildly, "You're supposed to be paying attention."  
"Right, right, right," he said, "Rightie rightie right."

I rolled my eyes and began, "Now Will, do me a favor and promise that tomorrow you won't take anything alright?"  
"Anything? What's anything?"

"Any drugs," I said, "You know, the things that make you act like . . . Well like this."  
"Ohhhhhh . . . Drugs. I gotcha. Drugs, drugs, hugs, rugs," he prattled, "Mugs, thugs, tugs, chugs, bugs. Bed bugs! Sleep tight don't let the bed bugs bite!"

"Can you shut the fuck up for two minutes?" I demanded. I was very close to blowing my top.  
"Maybeee . . ." he said mischievously, "If I get a prize."

"Yes!" I shouted, "Yes, I'll get you a surprise! I'll get you a fucking T-rexicorn if you just _shut up _already!"  
"Yay! I mean - quiet. Yeah I'm being quiet," he said, putting his finger to his lips.

I sighed in exasperation. "Now," I began again tightly, "You have to promise not to take anything tomorrow morning, because I'm going to come over to your house so we can talk about something."  
"Okie dookie th - hey wait a minute how do you know where I live?" he demanded, "Are you a stalker? Are you stalking me? Oh my God, stalker, somebody help me! stranger danger! _Stranger danger!_"

He turned like he was about to run away, screaming, but I snagged his sleeve to stop him. He stopped and looked at me with darting, dilated grey eyes.  
"I've been to your house beore Will," I semi-lied. I'd never been to his mom's house, which is where I planned to meet him this weekend. But I knew where it was. Mind reader, remember?

"Oh. Okay then," he chirped. "See you tomorrow then!"  
"Bright and early and sober," I warned as he turned and left. Instead of walking away, he sort of jumped from imaginary rock to imaginary rock, as if he thought he'd fall into some chasm if he missed the rocks that he had dreamt up. He was humming something _Brittany Spears _as he went. He was so different high then he was sober.

Sometimes it was hard to believe it was the same kid.


	17. Different Girl

**Different Girl**

I arrived at Will's house at exactly eight o'clock the next morning. I figured if I got there early enough, he wouldn't have _time _to get high, even if he forgot about our conversation. I woke up at six thirty, a little overly excited over to learn more about my abilities, but had decided that Will would probably be in a pissy mood if I woke him up this early on a Saturday. So I'd taken my time getting ready in an attempt to kill time. Taken a shower, braided my hair, things like that.

The house was . . . decent. It wasn't quite as nice as his dad's house. This house was a single level and painted a dull gray color. A trail had been shoveled through the snow covered yard, leading from the driveway to the porch. The driveway had two very different cars parked in it; a faded brown sedan and a shiny BMW.

I parked my car and followed the little pathway to the front door. It wasn't until after ringing the doorbell did I feel bad for possibly waking anybody in the household. There was a delay before the door opened. I could hear disgruntled, sleepy thoughts from inside. I waited for another minute, impatiently rocking on my heels.

Finally the door opened to reveal a woman scantily dressed in a silk purple nightgown that hardly covered anything. She looked like she was probably pushing thirty, but she was very pretty with a nice figure. She had blond hair that was obviously color treated, seeing as it didn't have a single streak of silver or gray in it. She had tired looking shadows under her dark eyes.

If this was Will's mom then I understood where the hooker rumors came from. I couldn't believe his mom was so young! Or so inappropriately dressed.

"Sorry to wake you," I said, "I'm here to see Will."  
She yawned. "It's fine. Probably a good thing you did. I didn't realize how late it was. Here, here, come in," she said in a lazy southern drawl, moving aside and ushering me inside.

"So you're here to see Will now are you?" she said, closing the door, "Can't be good or you wouldn't be here this early. What did he do now?"  
_"If she's pregnant I'll kill that little bastard," _she thought.

"He didn't do anything," I told her, "I just need to talk to him about something."  
"Something 'eh? Hmm well all right. As long as nobody's pregnant or dead, then it 'aint none of my business now is it?" she decided.

"I promise nobody's dead or pregnant," I said, "As far as I'm aware."  
She smiled. Her top teeth were straight but the bottoms weren't. "Good to hear," she said, "I worry 'bout that kid sometimes. He's always getting into some sort of trouble . . . Well, you know 'em, surely you know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Oh trust me, I know," I told her.  
She smiled again. "Well I'm Belinda, but you can call me Bindy. What do they call you?"

"Most people call me Amunet," I said, "But your son insists on calling me Nettie."  
"Nice to meet you Amunet," she said, "You seem like a nice girl. Nicer then most of the girls Will goes with anyhow."

"I bet," I muttered.  
She laughed. "You'd win that bet. So how 'bout you come up with me to go wake up Will? I know he isn't up yet," she said.

"All right," I said, following her deeper into the house. It was a decent-okay house. A little messy but nothing too awful. The room we had stepped into was the kitchen and through an archway I could see the living room. She led me into the living room, which was also pretty messy. The coffee table had dirty plates and abandoned chip bags scattered about it. Blankets were strewn about the two worn looking couches. On the end tables were empty glasses and mugs. Above the fireplace hung a shotgun. A large Rottweiler was curled up on one couch, growling at me.

"Hush Janie," Bindy said as we passed the dog, "Sorry, she doesn't take too kindly to strangers. She's a sweet thing though, once she gets used to you."  
"I love dogs," I told her.

"Then she'll be sure to love you," she said as she crossed to the other side of the living room where there were three doors.  
"Royce!" she yelled, pounding once on the door, "Royce get up! It's already eight an' you got that big meeting in the city today, 'member?"

There was a mumbled reply from the other side and Bindy moved on, satisfied. She opened the door next to it to reveal an extremely messy, and extremely peculiar, room. On each wall was a different painting that dominated the entire wall, painted around the furniture there. On the left wall, someone had painted a giant mural of a bunch of cartoon bunnies being chased by a UFO. On the right wall, where the bed was, there was a black and white one of one of those optical illusion spirals which made me dizzy. On the wall next to the door there was a very detailed one of a wolf baying at the moon, which just so happened to be on fire. The wall directly across from us was blood red and had lots of little paintings hung up on it, surrounding the blacked out window.

The closet door had very thin, intricate black lines painted on it that looked like a spider web. There were drawings done in sharpie on all of furniture; including the desk and bookcase. In the bookcase, there were piles of all different types of papers in all different sizes, and cups full of pencils, markers, and paintbrushes. There wasn't a single book. On the desk there were some picture frames lined up by the edge, but the top of the desk was mostly dominated by paintings and drawings. _Playboy _magazines and crumpled up pieces of paper scattered the floor.

The bed in the middle of the room had blood red sheets on it and underneath those sheets was Will. He looked different when he was asleep, more peaceful then I'd ever seen him. When he was high he was all jittery, and when he was sober he was all somber. Asleep, his face looked very peaceful. He wasn't sleeping peacefully though, it seemed. His blankets only half covered him, like he'd tried to kick them off. He rolled over restlessly.

"Billy," Bindy said, stepping over the magazines to get to his bed, "Billy wake up."  
I'd noticed that everyone called him Will when they spoke of him, but when they spoke _to _him they usually called him Billy. I always called him Will no matter what.

"Billy!" she yelled louder.  
"Go away Belinda," he moaned without opening his eyes, rolling over.  
"Time to get up Billy," she told him, shaking his shoulder.

"It's Saturday," he groaned, "Let me sleep damn it."  
"We have company."

"I don't care," he mumbled groggily, "I'm tired. Go away."  
She surprised me by smacking him upside the head. It wasn't really a violent thing but I was surprised. My mother never laid a hand on me.

"Get up," she snapped, "This nice girl didn't drive all the way out 'ere to be ignored by you. Now get up."  
"If you're gonna drag me out of bed could you at least make me some bloody breakfast?" he growled.

"Fine," she retorted, "But y'all better lose that attitude."  
She turned away from him and left the room, muttering to herself. _"Thankless little bastard," _she thought, _"Kid's lucky I love 'em or I'd kick his bratty ass out." _

Will had pushed the blankets off of himself and was sitting on the side of the bed. He was dressed in only flannel pajama pants and a grey wife-beater tank top. It was the first time I'd actually seen his arms. They were actually pretty nice; not ripped but muscular. I noticed a fading bruise on his shoulder. A souvenir of one of his klutzy accidents, I presumed.

"I figured it was you," he muttered, looking at me and rubbing his eyes, "I knew you were coming by today . . . I just thought you'd come by at a _normal _hour. Now, why I thought you would do anything normal, I have no idea . . ."

"What do you know about normal?" I countered, "Look at this room."  
"So sue me for being creative," he said getting to his feet before stretching out his arms and cracking his knuckles.

"That's a bad habit," I told him in reference to the knuckle-cracking.  
"Or so they tell me," he mumbled, "So what do you want anyway? I can't remember what you said you were coming over here for."

I guess that means he forgot about the million dollars and the unicorn-hybrid I'd promised him.

"I wanted to talk about energy vampires with you," I told him.  
"Oh great," he said, yawning, "Wonderful. What'd you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me," I said, "But mostly I want to learn how to use my other abilities."  
"You know what? I think I have something that might help you out," he said, going over to his closet.

He began rummaging around in there. "This might take a while," he told me, "Don't worry. I'll find it eventually."  
While he searched for whatever it was, I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. I looked at some of the drawings and paintings there. Some were cartoonish and others were very detailed. All in all, they were all really good.

"You made all of these?" I said aloud. I knew that he had, I was just surprised. I'd seen some of his drawings at school before, but those were all cartoons. Some of these were actually sophisticated.  
"Well they didn't make themselves," he muttered.

Bored, I just looked at the things on his desk. There was a framed picture of what I could only guess was Will's family, a long time ago obviously. It showed three people standing in front of a Christmas tree. I recognized one of the people as Bindy. Only she barely seemed eighteen. She looked less pale and she had a huge smile on her face. There was a young man standing next to her with one arm around her waist. He was a tall, muscular man with dark hair and a happy grin on his face. I guessed that this was Will's father. On his shoulders was a little boy who looked about three or four. The little boy had a mop of dark hair and was smiling. I could only assume that it was Will.

"Found it," he said just then, coming out of the closet with a fat spiral notebook in one hand.  
He stared for a moment at the picture frame I was holding. He didn't say anything more, just stared at it.

"Your parents look really happy in this picture," I said, "What happened? I mean, why'd they get divorced."  
"Anyone can look happy in a picture Nettie," he told me.

"But why did they get divorced?" I pursued.  
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Your curiosity is insatiable, isn't it?"

"How can it not be?" I asked rhetorically. "You never tell me anything about yourself."  
"Why should I have to?" he asked.

I made a face. He had a point.

"What is that?" I asked, promptly changing the subject.  
"A notebook," he told me, "It's full of notes on psychic vampires."

He handed it to me and I flipped through it. It was easily two hundred pages of notes. There were sketches and diagrams and statistics. It was pure gold.  
"Where did you get this?" I asked in awe.

"I stole it from the institution."  
"You stole it?" I demanded, shocked.

"Well they weren't going to let me just take it," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides, they have all this shit logged into their computers anyway."  
I continued flipping through it for another moment, too excited to even care at this point. So much information . . . I could learn so much . . .

"Every piece of known information about psychic vampires is in that notebook," he said, "But if you still need help with telekinesis after reading it, you can drop by and I'll give you a hand."  
"So you're kicking me out?" I demanded.

"Of course not," he said, "Belinda would be furious. She's all about southern hospitality. Unless of course you piss her off, in which case she'll pull out her twelve gauge."  
"And here I thought the gun on the mantle was just for show," I muttered.

"Oh hell no. Anyway, you're gonna stay for breakfast," he said, "Belinda would be offended if you didn't."  
"Why do you call your mother Belinda?" I asked. I never called my mother by her first name.

He shrugged. "That's her name," he said, "Why would I call her anything else?"  
I let it drop.

"Come on and eat," he said and headed for the door. I followed him with the notebook under my arm. He led me into the messy little kitchen where Bindy was at the stove, making pancakes. A man sat at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. He looked about forty five or so and had neat, thinning light brown hair. He was clean shaven with a slight tan. He wore only silk pajama bottoms and no shirt. It was Bindy's rich boyfriend.

She turned around when we walked into the kitchen, noting the notebook under my arm. She recognized it as the one Will had stolen from the institute. _"This must be the other psychic vampire Will was talking about!" _she thought enthusiastically, _"He said she didn't know much about what she was. He must be trying to help her out. That's my boy."_

"Royce honey," she said, "This is Will's friend Amunet. She'll be joinin' us for breakfast."  
"Hello," he said simply. He didn't feel the need to be hostile or friendly towards strangers in such situations.

"You like pancakes now don't 'cha darlin'?" Bindy directed her question at me.  
"Yeah I like pancakes," I said.

"Good. Now would y'all like chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?" she wondered.  
"Chocolate chips please," I said politely.

Will rolled his eyes at me as he went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice.  
"Sit, sit now honey," Bindy said, waving her spatula at me.

I did as she said and sat down at the table across from Royce, who didn't look up from his paper. I watched Will's mom as she skillfully prepared the pancakes with ease.  
"So you must be the one who taught Will how to cook," I said.

"Me? Hell no. No man cooks in my house. That's my job and I take pride in that. A man having to cook for himself in _my _house is an insult. Implies that I can't take care of my own family. No, he picked it up himself," she said, "He's gotta know how to cook if he wants to eat in his father's house. Right Billy?"

"Basically," he muttered as he poured two glasses of orange juice.  
"It's only to be expected. It's not like his father knows his way 'round a kitchen. He wouldn't know a ladle from a serving spoon. Not like his new wife is any better. She's one of them prissy gals. Why he left me for a useless bimbo like that, I haven't an idea in the foggiest. She couldn't serve a proper dinner if her life depended on it, I tell you."

Her words and thoughts made it clear that she didn't care fondly for her ex-husband or his new wife. Understandable.

Will came over to the table and sat down next to me, placing a glass of orange juice in front of me. I considered thanking him but I'd already done that once before.  
"Billy, set the table would ya?" Bindy asked. She considered cooking woman's work, but that didn't mean she had to do everything all the time.

"Kay," he mumbled, getting up and gathering plates and forks. He placed one in front of each of the four places at the table before sitting back down. A few more minutes passed before Bindy came over to the table, a steaming plate of pancakes in one hand and a container of syrup in the other.

"Here ya go," she said as she placed both items in the center of the table. I took a pancake but both of the males took two; typical. Bindy returned to the stove to finish preparing the bacon before returning with a big plate of that too. I took three pieces of that and once again, the males took double the amount. Bindy sat down next to Royce then and grabbed herself two pancakes and five peices of bacon. I was surprised. She was so skinny.

She noted my small portions with distaste. "That's all?" she drawled, "Darlin' you gotta eat a little more then that. There's food to spare in my house I promise. Go on then, take some more bacon. No one leaves this place with an empty belly. It's an insult to my cooking."

Deciding I didn't want to offend Bindy, I took two more pieces of bacon and she smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Will dunking his bacon in the syrup and eating it with his fingers. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"That's gross," I told him.  
"What? This?" he asked, doing it again.

"Yes," I said.  
"Well have you ever tried it?" he demanded.

"No."  
"Then how do you know you don't like it?" he asked.

"I just do . . . I mean, it's bacon and syrup after all," I reasoned, "They just don't go together."  
"You sure?" he challenged, "Why don't you try it?"

Just to prove that I wasn't afraid to try it, I did. Using my fork of course, I lightly dipped my bacon into some of the excess syrup that pooled on the side of my plate. Determinedly, I took a bite. I was both annoyed and pleased by how good it tasted.

"Well?" Will asked.  
"Okay, it's pretty good," I agreed grudgingly.

He smiled. "See? I told you so," he said, dipping his bacon in syrup again, "You have to try new things Nettie."  
"New isn't always better," I informed him.

"Yes it is," he said simply before taking a bite of bacon. I turned away and looked down at my plate. I ate my pancake and then the rest of my bacon (the traditional way) since I had a feeling Bindy would be upset if I didn't eat all my food. I felt pretty full afterwards.

"Would you like another one darlin'?" she wondered.  
"No, no thanks. I'm full," I told her, "I wouldn't be able to finish it."

Once we were all done, she began to gather all the plates.  
"Do you want some help with the dishes Bindy?" I wondered.

She beamed at me. "Why thank ya Amunet," she said, "That would be wonderful." She gave Will a look. "Why is it that your friends are always more helpful 'round the house then you are, hmm?"  
"Cause you're not their mother," he said, "If you were, they wouldn't help you at all."

She rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. "Why don't y'all make yourself useful and go feed Janie?" she suggested.  
"Kay," he said and left the room.

"I have to go get ready for my meeting," Royce said, getting up from the table and following Will out. I helped Bindy with all the dishes then. I washed and she dried because she knew where to put them all afterwards. I actually did know where they went, but she had decided it was best not to assume I was a mind reader.

"I gotta say Amunet, y'all gotta be the nicest girl Will's brought 'round here," she said as we washed, "'Cept course Heather. That girl's sweet as sugar. But she's little Mikey's girl and course Will wouldn't go after his best friend's girl. I taught him better then that. Nah most of the girls Will seems to attract are selfish, snivling lil' tramps. I tolerate 'em hangin' 'round here thought 'cause I know Will isn't really interested. He isn't much interested in girls honestly. I mean he's _interested _in them, thankfully, but he's never had a real girlfriend that I've known of."

I thought of Zoey and Kristy. Sniveling, selfish, and trampy were defiantly three words that could describe them. But Bindy was right, Will didn't really seem _interested _in either of them. Or in any girl actually. At least not for anything besides immediate entertainment that is. And I'd never heard of him having a real girlfriend either, that I could recall.

"Mhmmm," I mumbled vaguely, sure that Will was probably listening to his mother's thoughts right now. I didn't want to say anything he could use against me.  
"You seem like a nice gal. Pretty, smart, nicely dressed, dignified . . . real. If he's smart, he'll keep you 'round," she went on.

I made a scoffing noise in the back of my throat before snickering under my breath. First off, she was under the impression that Will and I had some sort of attraction going on. Wrong of course. Sure, I'd had a slight crush on him previously. But I was mostly over that, besides, the attraction was only to his looks, not anything else. The part about 'if he's smart' made me snicker. Since when was Will ever smart?

I mumbled another vague reply and finished the rest of dishes listening to Bindy's idle chatter.  
"Well I have to go," I said once we were done, "It was nice meeting you Bindy."

"Nice to meet ya too Amunet," she said, "Y'all come by here sometime, alright?"  
I didn't exactly want to agree but it wasn't like I could say no. "Alright," I said before grabbing the notebook off of the table and walking into the living room.

Will was sitting on the couch, watching TV with Janie's big head in his lap as she glared daggers at me. Will looked up as she growled at me.  
"Heading out?" he guessed.

"Yeah," I said simply. I considered making an excuse of somewhere I had to go, but I didn't have one. I was just eager to get home and start reading.  
"Well alright," he said, "I'll see you around."

"I'll see you on Monday," I said curtly before turning and leaving with the notebook tucked under my arm. I closed the door behind me and walked over to my car. I got in and placed the book safely in the passenger seat. I had to work not to speed home. I was so excited about starting on that notebook.

Learning more about who I was was the only real perk of hanging out with Will.


	18. Passionate Girl

**Passionate Girl**

I spent all of Saturday learning more about energy vampires. I tore through the notebook Will had given in me in just about three hours. In those two hundred pages I had learned so much information as to who I really was that I almost couldn't believe it.

I had hoped to learn what caused someone to become a psychic vampire but sadly, there was no answer for that. Apparently, nobody knew if psychic vampires were born that way or if it developed later in life. They also weren't sure if it was due to genetics or if outside factors caused it. Still, they had found a few patterns among energy vampires. Such as that most usually developed their abilities somewhere between the ages of three or four. Also, that many had very similar personality traits.

Most were paranoid, passive-aggressive, insecure, egotistical, or emotionless. Sometimes in combinations. Another similarity between subjects was their willingness to expand their psychic abilities, which I found scarily accurate. Researchers speculated that all energy vampires had a craving to learn; an addiction to knowing everything due to the fact that their abilities grant near omniscience.

Tests showed that energy vampires could go about a week without absorbing energy from others, before their powers began to wane. Since the energy draining is an unconscious thing, they had to lock a vampire in an isolation chamber far from any human contact. They did this with several different vampires to check for accuracy. In all cases, after two weeks, none of the vampires has access to their abilities. However, immediately after being reunited with humans, they all regained energy instantly.

Another test revealed that energy vampires were strengthened by the moon, like werewolves or something I suppose. The full moon especially seemed to intensify psychic powers. It was speculated that, as the full moon controls the tides of the oceans, it might also influence the tides of psychic energy inside of a person. Moving them in such a way that, even normal humans with small amounts of psychic energy, could do some things they'd never been able to before. But for psychic vampires, the full moon apparently intensifies the powers at least ten fold.

There was more though. So much more. But the part I found the most interesting was the list of abilities they had witnessed in different subjects. Telekinesis, manifestation, mind reading, postcognition, precognition, psychometry, astral projection, telepathy. And with each ability, there were recounts of the way certain subjects explained how they had learned this ability and how it felt to use it.

To me, that was pure gold.

I started with telepathy, since it was very similar to mind reading. According to the book, I already had the hardest part down. The hardest part was receiving others' thoughts and seeing as I'd been doing that for as long as I could remember, that part of the equation was spoken for. According to the subject, it was easier to send thoughts then receive them. They had said that it was best to practice with a single word and to be in the same room as someone.

So I spent all of Saturday night sitting in the living room with my mother while she read, just staring at her and trying to send a word. Supposedly it was easier if you tried sending the same word, to create some kind of repetition. I tried all night. And after a while, my mother was starting to question about my staring. I told her I was trying to expand my mind reading abilities. She didn't ask any more questions; the topic of my mind reading didn't exactly bother her but she didn't really understand it either. She tried to avoid talking about it when possible.

I kept trying to send her one single word all night long but I got nowhere. And after she went upstairs to bed, I still kept trying, even though I had no reason to think it would work better at a distance. And once she fell asleep I gave up on it for the time being.

The next day, I purposely went out even though I had no specific place I wanted to go. I just wanted to be around other people, to see if I could project thoughts to them, to see if maybe my mom was just a fluke. She wasn't. I spent all morning and afternoon lurking about libraries, coffee shops, pizzerias, bakeries. Anywhere where I could sit down for a while and concentrate on sending someone a thought.

Still, I got no where. By nine o'clock that night, I had gotten horridly frustrated. So frustrated that I had almost resorted to going to see Will for help. _Almost. _I was too proud for that though and I knew that seeing his smug smile would only piss me off further. Besides, I'd be lucky to find him sober at this hour.

So I went home, angry and frustrated. It didn't help that I had gotten my period this morning either. To stifle my frustrated and hormonal anger I grabbed a box of my mom's fancy chocolates, put on some comfy sweats, curled up on the couch and ate the entire box of chocolates. It helped marginally.

The next morning, I went to school in a foul mood. I was tired, frustrated, and PMS'ing. Not to mention it was raining and I was pretty sure I was getting sick. So, all in all, this day didn't have the best raw materials to be a good day. I spent the day snapping and snarling at anybody who aggravated me. Which was pretty much anyone who dared to say a word to me.

At lunch I sat between Aaron and Will like I always did, but with a scowl on my face, which wasn't so uncommon for me actually. Instead of a salad, I'd gotten a donut and a chocolate milk. Whenever I was on my period I had an insane desire for chocolate of any kind.

I barely listened to everyone as they chatted around me. Heather figured that I was probably PMS'ing or sick, so she politely ignored me. Will was sober, like he was most Mondays recently, so he wasn't really bothering me either. Of course, that didn't stop Aaron though.

"So what's got your panties in a bunch today?" he nagged me, "You know, besides life. Which has always seemed to annoy you."  
I gave him the death glare. "I'm tired," I growled, "So back the fuck off."

"That time of the month, huh?" he teased.  
"Just leave her alone Aaron," Will mumbled.

I gave him a look telling him not to interfere. I could handle this. "I'm sure you know how that feels," I snarled at Aaron, ignoring Will.  
"Not first hand," he said, "But I've noticed that some women are hornier during their period."

"That's bullshit," Kristy told him.  
"No I'm serious. All the hormones gets you ladies all kinked up or something. What about you Nettie? Feeling turned on?"

"Fuck you," I hissed.  
"If it pleases her majesty," he teased, doing a little mock bow.

"It doesn't," I said flatly, barely holding back my anger.  
"Does anything please you?" he demanded, "Cause I don't think I've seen you smile once since you moved here. Are you like made of stone or something?"

I clenched my fists as I robotically grabbed my bag and got up. "Yes," I said, "Yes I am." And then, before I could fly into an uncharacteristic rage, I turned and left the cafeteria. I was absolutely boiling with anger, I could just imagine sparks crackling off of me. It was just all of this pent up anger bubbling to the surface. I felt like I was about to fly off the handles. And I really didn't want to tarnish my stone cold reputation by flying into a rage. Plus, I didn't want to say anything overly hurtful, seeing as I had the potential to seriously hurt people, thanks to my gift.

I stomped away, down the hallway and out of the building. I stalked through the rain all the way down to the parking lot. I had decided that school today wasn't a good idea. I could feel myself getting sick. What I needed to do was go home, calm down, drink some mocha, and watch movies under a big fluffy blanket. Then I'd feel better.

As I entered the empty parking lot, I heard rapid footsteps behind me, sloshing in the puddles. I turned to see Will coming to a halt behind me. Like me, he was drenched.  
"What do you want Will?" I demanded.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay," he said, "You seem kinda . . . stressed.  
"There's a good reason for that," I grumbled, "It's because I am."

I was kind of taken back by how nice he was being. When Will was high he showed an interest in me - in annoying me. But when he was sober . . . not so much. I got the impression that he thought of me similar to the way that I thought about him. Tolerating one another most of the time and enjoying each other's company occasionally.

"What's the matter?" he wondered.  
"I'm just not feeling well," I admitted, "I didn't sleep well last night and I think I'm getting sick. Not to mention I spent the whole weekend trying to use telepathy and I couldn't do it. And it just really frustrated me."

"You couldn't figure it out?" he asked, seeming surprised. He was right to be surprised that I hadn't figured something out easily.  
"No," I pouted.

"I could help you," he said, taking a step closer, "If you want."  
I weighed my options for a moment. Accept help from Will . . . or try to figure it out on my own? Both had their drawbacks.

"Can you just . . . show me . . . once?" I asked, swallowing some of my pride.  
_"Like this?" _a voice appeared in my head. Will's voice.

I flinched automatically, taken back.  
"How do you _do _that?" I demanded.

"You have to expand your mind. Really hone in on that person," he said, taking another step closer, "You have to be completely focused on them."  
The tone of his voice and the way he was standing so close . . . It just triggered something inside me and suddenly my old crush on Will didn't seem so far away.

"You have to close your mind to the rest of the world," he said, his voice taking on a strange edge, "You have to hone in on their entire being. Their mind . . . their body. Everything."  
He was extremely close now, his body inches from mine, his eyes staring down into mine. I felt my palms getting all sweaty, my breath quickening, a chill going down my spine.

"Like her big brown eyes . . . Or her silky black hair," he murmured, slowly running his fingers through my wet hair.  
My breath was coming in short gasps then. I shivered but hardly from the cold.

"Or how she always smells a little like roses. Or how soft her cinnamon skin feels," he went on, reaching up to his run his fingers down my wet cheek as he closed the minuscule distance between us. He was so close now that my chest was touching his. Where his body touched mine, the skin tingled. By this point, my hands were shaking and sweaty, my heart slamming against my ribcage passionately.

"Or the way that her lips look. , .Or how they feel," he whispered in a very soft voice as he lowered his head to mine and his lips touched mine. For a brief moment, I froze. I was literally in shock. I knew that I'd had a crush on Will in the past but to think that he had any feelings towards me at all . . . That was shocking. Not to mention that I'd never kissed a boy in my entire life.

After the shock faded, I was overwhelmed with desire. Sixteen years with no involvment in sensual acts was obviously taking it's toll now. I felt lust glaze over me like a bucket of water being poured over my head, forming a coating around me. My body felt heated up, my mind overtaken by lust, my fatigue and cramps forgotten.

Will pulled back, mistaking my pleasant shock for a displeased sort of shock. His lips had just barely brushed mine - but it had set my body on fire.  
He looked down at me with hurt grey eyes. "Uh sorry. I shouldn't of done that. I just thought -" he began.

I cut him off when suddenly I grabbed his sweatshirt to pull his lips back to mine. He was momentarily shocked but he unfroze when my lips started moving against his. I was completely unconscious of what I was doing. It was like my body was being controlled by a different person - an extremely horny person.

My lips moved against his hungrily and he responded in turn. I had my fingers locked into his hair, as if to prevent his lips from leaving mine. He had his arms around my waist, his hands fisted into my jacket as if he wished it would disappear. I could feel his body pressed up against mine and it made me moan against his lips. The heat inside me was building, a desire for something I'd never desired before in my life.

I pressed myself harder against him, tightening my hands in his hair. I moved my lips against his in an even more feverish manner. Just as I imagined it would, his mouth tasted like caramel and I liked it. But when his warm hands moved to my hips I suddenly snapped out of my lusting haze. Whatever hormonal creature that had taken over my body had vanished and I was in control again.

Untangling my fingers from his hair I pulled away from him suddenly, ever-so-gracefully stumbling back. I braced myself against a soggy tree that grew just on the side of the pavement. Panting, I stared at Will in mortified shock. I couldn't believe I'd just done that.

Will stared back at me with shock. Only instead of seeming mortified he seemed hurt. His liquidy grey eyes were wide as they looked at me through his inky lashes. His wet hair looked darker as it stuck to his forehead, the purple almost blending in. His lips were parted slightly in surprise . . . His moist . . . full . . . _supple _lips . . .

"I-I have to go," I stammered out before taking off. I hated running, and I especially hated running away from something or someone. I'd refused to run away from guys who I knew were going to try and mug me. But right then, I ran as fast as I possibly could.

My boots pounded against the wet pavement, the fur on them completely ruined. The rain above my head was turning to snow, meaning it must've been getting colder but my body still felt like it was on fire. I ran across the parking lot all the way to the car, not once looking back at Will. I could just imagine the way he'd look . . . standing there alone in the rain, looking hurt with those big eyes and those sullen lips. The image in my head was almost too much to bear. I couldn't even stand the thought of seeing him like that.

When I reached my car I fumbled for the keys to unlock it. I threw the door open and got in speedily, flinging my bag in the passenger seat. I slammed the door shut and locked it. Breathing hard, I let my head fall forward to rest against the steering wheel.

This wasn't who I was. I wasn't _supposed _to feel like this. I wasn't supposed to feel this passion . . . this lust . . . this _longing. _A longing for something more then sex - something I couldn't understand. A longing in my chest like there was something missing inside of it. A feeling almost painful. I wasn't supposed to be this . . . human. All my life I'd been Amunet the Cold, Amunet the Heartless, Amunet the Human Ice Sculpture.

Now I was Amunet the horny, confused, hormonal teenager. I was no better than the rest of them anymore.


	19. Real Girl

**Real Girl**

_I was lost in a world of white. The sky was a grayish white, the blue hidden behind sheets of clouds. The ground was covered in snow as were the bare trees. Snow fell down from the sky in torrents, the flakes swirling in front of my face. There was nothing but these snowy woods, myself, and Will. _

_He stood across from me, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Not exactly weather appropriate attire. Snow flakes clung to his hair and his bare arms were wet with melted snow. He was looking at me with his smoldering eyes the color of angry ocean waves. _

_He knelt down in the snow and began to trace a design with his finger. His dark, snow saturated hair fell in front of his face and covered his eyes as he looked down at his work. I took a few steps closer. My boots made no sound as I walked through the snow. There was only silence. My footsteps made no sound, neither did the wind that swirled, and neither did Will. For a moment. _

_"Snow flakes are like bleached ashes," he said, breaking the silence, "Like remnants of some fire in heaven. Pretty to look at but deadly to touch."  
I stared at him, confused and transfixed. He didn't sound like the real Will at all; sober or high. _

_He looked up at me through his hair then. "Just like you," he said.  
I took several steps closer and looked down at his drawing in the snow. It didn't look like anything upside down so I moved so that I was standing next to Will. _

_The drawing in the snow was of a very detailed one of a heart with a snake wrapped around it, constricting it. A dagger was plunged through the heart like one of Cupid's arrows. A drop of something, probably blood, hung off the tip of the blade where it protruded back out of the heart. It was scarily good for something sketched in the snow. The falling snow didn't disturb it somehow. _

_"Too dangerous," Will muttered, looking at it and shaking his head, "Too much pain."  
And then he brushed his hand over the drawing, wiping it away, taking it out of existence. He looked back up at me. "Not worth it," he said. _

_He got up then and began to walk away. "Will!" I tried to call but no sound escaped my lips. It was like he was the only thing in this universe capable of making sound. His sneakers made faint crunching noises against the snow while mine made none as I chased after him. He was walking and I was running, yet somehow I just couldn't reach him. _

_As he began to disappear among the trees and the snow, his voice could still be heard. The only sound in the silence. He was singing softly, to the tempo of 'it's raining, it's pouring,' as he walked away from me, the snow engulfing him, making him almost invisible. But still, I could hear his voice perfectly as if he was right next to me. _

_"It's snowing, she's weeping, the little girl is sleeping. He beat her 'til she bled and turned her pretty hair red. She went to bed with thoughts of him in her head, and prayed not to wake up in the morning."_

I jolted awake to the sound of my annoying-as-hell ringtone going off. It was pitch black in my room and I fumbled on my nightstand for my cellphone. I found it and the screen told me that it was one o'clock in the morning and that Heather was calling. This could not be good.

"Hello?" I mumbled groggily.  
There was screaming and weeping on the other side of the phone. _"Nettie Nettie you have to help me!" _Heather's voice cried on the other side of the phone.

That certainly woke me up. I sat bolt upright. "Heather?" I asked frantically, "Heather what's going on? Are you okay?"  
_"No, no, you have to help me!" _she sobbed, _"I was - I was walking by Will's dad's house cause I was looking for my cat that got out. And I heard all this screaming from inside his house and so I ran over to the door but I - I slipped on the steps cause they were icy and I think I broke my ankle. It hurts so much. And now it's all quiet inside. I started yelling but nobody answered. Oh Nettie you have to help me! Mike won't answer his phone!"_

_"_Don't worry Heather," I said, "I'm going _right now._"  
_"Hurry hurry please,_" she begged, _"It's so cold and I think somebody might've broken into the house. Oh God please help me."_

_"_I'll be there as fast as I can," I told her, "Just hold on."  
I snapped my phone shut and immediately sprung out of bed. I fumbled for my glasses on my nightstand and put them on. I ran for the door without bothering to turn the lights on, stepping on something on my way. It hurt but I ignored it. I flew down the stairs and flipped a light on.

Lila looked up at me sleepily from the floor as I tore open the closet and grabbed my coat, pulling it on over my pajamas, and then slipped my boots on. I grabbed my keys off the rack and ran into the garage. I got in my car and backed out of the garage to find that it was lightly snowing. Fucking perfect.

It was Saturday night. I'd gotten sick and missed school on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I'd felt bad about what I'd done to Will on Monday though so I'd tried calling him and texting him every day - he never responded. I went back to school on Friday but he wasn't there. I hadn't seen him since Monday and worry filled me as I drove. All the things Heather had said about screaming . . . What if something happened to him? What if something happened to him and the last time I ever saw him I hurt him?

The snow meant that I had to drive a little slower then I needed to. Seeing as I wouldn't be of much use to anybody if I wrapped my car around a telephone pole. I drove as fast as the snow would allow, all the while thinking of Will and Heather. I finally arrived about fifteen minutes after I had left.

I couldn't see Heather due to the snow but I prayed that she was there. I got out of my car and ran across the snow covered front yard. When I got to the porch I found Heather. She was half sitting, half sprawled at the bottom of the steps. Her face was as white as a ghost, her lips blue, as her pale fingers were clenched around her ankle. Icy tears fell down her cheeks and she looked up at me through frozen lashes. Her eyes lit up in relief and she silently thanked God for sending me.

"Nettie!" she said between her chattering teeth, "Y-you c-came."  
"Of course I came," I said, kneeling down in front of her. She was absolutely frozen and her ankle twisted in an unnatural position.

"W-we have to get inside," she managed, "I-I heard a gun shot. But whoever was there is gone now. I h-heard people talking out back. I yelled to them b-but nobody came t-to help me."  
My thoughts were full of horror and panic - what if somebody _had _broken in. What if they had a gun? Oh God - Will.

"Come on," I said, and I wrapped her arm around her shoulder, supporting her weight and helping her to her feet. I half carried her - she wasn't very heavy, just tall - up the steps to the porch and placed her momentarily on the snow covered chair there.

"W-we could try and pick the lock," she said, "O-or we could look around for a spare key. M-maybe under the mat. Or -"  
While she was speaking I had carefully gone down the stairs and grabbed a large decorative painted rock out of the garden. It was heavy but I wasn't that weak. So I lifted it above my head and slammed it down on the window as hard as I could.

It shattered and I dropped the rock, letting it fall inside. I tried to cover my face from the glass. Some of it got my hands and stung sharply. It was better then getting it in my eye though.  
"Or we could do that," Heather finished.

I climbed inside the window and the first thing I did was unlock the front door. I went back out and helped Heather in. Speedily, I placed her on the couch and then began running around the house frantically. I didn't want to admit it - but I was freaking out. The house was deadly quiet.

"Will!" I called, "Will! Will!"  
"Nettie?" came a voice.

"Will!" I shouted, hope filling me, "Will?"  
"Yeah," he called back. Now that it was confirmed that the owner of this voice was Will I let relief flood over me.

"Will! Where are you?"  
"In the fucking closet," he called, not sounding very happy about it either.

"The closet?" I repeated under my breath as I followed his voice down a hallway. I knew I'd found the right door because there was a chair underneath the doorknob. Whoever locked him in there must of known he could use telekinesis to undo any lock.

I moved the chair and opened the door. Will was standing there, looking fine actually. Well fine considering what I'd been fearing. His bangs were a redish color with what I could only assume was blood and his knuckles were bleeding freely. He was wearing a grey t-shirt, revealing several bruises on his arms. On his side, the t-shirt had a blood stain on it. But still, I'd been expecting much much worse.

"Oh thank God you're alright," I exclaimed, surprising myself by flinging my arms around him. He seemed startled but he unfroze after a minute and hesitantly put his arms around me comfortingly. After a moment, he pulled away. I felt slightly hurt but I understood why he might be wary of showing affection towards me - seeing how I'd rejected him earlier this week.

"Nettie - What are you doing here?" he asked as he pulled away.  
"Heather called me," I explained, "She heard screaming coming from your house so she went to go see what was going . . . She said she heard a gunshot. What happened?"

He fidgeted slightly. "I got into a fight with my step-brothers. One of them just flunked out of college so he's back and not very happy. Him and my other step-brother got drunk and were being assholes. We all started fighting and then one of those idiots started fooling around with my dad's gun and put a fucking hole in the ceiling."

I followed his gaze upwards to the bullet hole in the ceiling. "Jesus Christ," I mumbled.  
"And then they locked me in a closet and left out the back door," he said, "Because they know my dad is going to kill them when they get back."

I don't know why, but I felt like he was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.

"Where is your dad anyway?" I wondered.  
"Him and my step-mom went to one of her cousin's wedding," he said with a shrug.

I believed that part, but still I was suspicious.

"How'd you even get in here?" he asked.  
I looked guilty at the floor. "Well I sort of broke a window. . ."

"You did what?" he demanded, "Aw fuck my dad's gonna kill me. What the hell possessed you to do _that_?"  
"Don't look at me like that!" I exclaimed, "For all I knew, you could've been dead! Besides, Heather was hurt and -"

"Wait Heather's hurt?" he said, his eyes filling with an intense alarm I didn't quite understand.  
"I think she broke her ankle," I told him.

"How did it happen?" he demanded.  
"She slipped on some ice on your porch," I said.

Now it might seem strange, but I could've sworn some of the worry faded out of his eyes when I told him _how _she got hurt. I didn't understand why though. What did it matter _how _she broke her ankle. I didn't press it though. For all I knew, I imagined it.

"Oh God," he muttered, "Well, where is she?"  
"In the living room," I said.

"Let's bring her to my room," he said, "I'm guessing you broke the window in the living room so it's probably freezing in there."  
"Yeah," I mumbled guilty and followed him into the living room. I still couldn't escape the suspicioun that he was lying to me.

In the living room, Heather was curled up on the couch, shivering. Her teeth were chattering and her face was scrunched up in discomfort.  
"Will!" she exclaimed, "Y-you're okay! T-thank God. What happened?"

"I got into a fight with my step-brothers," he told her, "They were drunk and one of them put a hole in the ceiling with my dad's gun. Then they locked me in a closet and left out the back door."  
"Oh g-good. Well it's n-not good I g-guess but it's better then w-what I thought might've happened. I th-thought somebody might've broken in," she stammered.

Like mine, her thoughts were suspicious though. _"The screaming I heard didn't sound like people arguing and fighting," _she thought_, "It sounded like somebody being tortured_." She tried to push the thoughts away though. She was cold, she told herself, she was imagining things.

"I'm fine," he told her as he knelt in front of her, "Now let's see about that ankle."  
He pushed up the damp bottom of her jeans to reveal a pale ankle, twisted in an unnatural position.

"Ohhh. . ." he trailed off, "I think it's just a sprain. A bad sprain . . . But I don't think we need to take you to the hospital just yet. First let's just get you warmed up."  
"K-kay," she said.

"Want me to call your parents or something?" I asked, "So they don't worry?"  
"N-no. They're out of town. M-my aunt's supposed to come check on me to-tomorrow afternoon b-but I'll be back by then," she told me.

Well that explained why she called me and not her parents who live just down the street.  
"What about Mike?" Will asked, "Where's he?"

"I-I don't know," she said, "He d-didn't answer his cellphone."  
"It probably died," he reasoned, "Now come on."

Will easily scooped Heather up into his arms then, bridal style. I was surprised. Not so much that he was strong enough to do so but that he was doing it. Heather didn't object as Will carried her up a quick flight of stairs. I followed as he brought her into a bedroom - his I assumed. It wasn't like the bedroom at his real house. This one was more normal looking. Dark green walls, black bedspread, a little plasma screen across from the bed, a desk covered with writing implements and notebooks. There was some paint stains on the desk but none of Will's artwork was on the walls. I didn't like this room - it didn't seem like Will really lived here.

He placed Heather in his bed and put the blankets on over her. She sighed at the warmth and shuddered once. Will grabbed a little remote off his bedside table and turned on the TV for her. Some sitcom was on. Heather tried to pay attention to it and not her throbbing ankle.

"I'm gonna go board up that window now," he said, "Before we all freeze to death. Nettie why don't you get Heather some tea or something. Surely you can do that."  
I glared at him. I know I'm no cook but I can make a simple tea. "I think I'll manage," I hissed.

He smiled slightly and left the room.  
"So what would you like Heather?" I asked, "Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?"

"Tea is fine," she said, pulling the blankets up tighter around her.  
"Alright. I'll be right back," I promised and went back downstairs. In the living room Will was boarding up the window, slamming a hammer down to nail it down.

I passed by him silently and went into the kitchen and filled up the kettle with water out of the faucet. I put it on the stove and turned it on. I went around the kitchen, searching for sugar, tea bags, and milk. I found the milk and teabags easily but I couldn't find the sugar.

Will came in while I was kneeling in front one of the cabinets, searching for sugar.  
"Scoping out our valuables?" he quipped as he walked in, "Cause the jewels are in the safe."

"I'm looking for the sugar," I explained as I continued to search.  
"Well it's in the cabinet over the sink," he told me.

I got up then and went to look in the cabinet over the fridge. Sure enough there was sugar there.  
"By the way, nice _Snoopy _pajamas," he said.

I remembered then that I hadn't bothered to get changed before coming here - just put my jacket on. I hadn't even put my hair up.  
"Shut up," I muttered, turning around. When I looked at him something caught my eye. The cut that I assumed was under his bangs must've still been bleeding. Blood dripped down his face and his bangs were completly soaked with it.

"Will - you're bleeding," I said.  
"I'm aware," he said, lifting his hands to showcase his bloody knuckles.

"No I meant your head," I said approaching him, "Let me see."  
"It's fine," he insisted.

"Just hold still," I said as I carefully lifted his bloody bangs. There was a not too pleasant gash cut diagonally across his forehead.  
I winced slightly at the sight. "Ohh . . . I have to clean that," I said.

"It's fine really."  
"I'm still going to clean it," I said as I went over to the sink and grabbed one of dishtowels there.

"I get hurt all the time," he said, "It's no big deal."  
"Is that relevant? No," I said as I put the dishtowel under some hot water, "So just shut up."

He rolled his eyes and huffed impatiently as I walked back over him, the damp washcloth in my hand.  
"Now just hold still and be quiet," I instructed, lifting his bangs again to lightly dab at the cut there, cleaning away the blood around it. I continued to wash the blood that had ran down his face. The whole time he was silent, staring at me wtih those eyes.

"There," I said a little shakily, "Done."  
"Wait," he said.

I stopped and turned back around, waiting for him to say something.  
"Give me that. I'll put it in the wash."

"Here," I mumbled, tossing it to him. He disappeared and I sighed as I took the kettle off the stove. I then proceeded to make Heather's tea, once I found a mug. While I was stirring it all together, Will reappeared, wearing a new dark blue long sleeved shirt. This one was blood free and hid all of his bruises.

I looked away from him and kept stirring the tea. "So you've uh . . . been avoiding me this week," I said awkwardly.  
"I was under the impression that you didn't want to speak to me."

"I called you every day," I argued, "You never picked up."  
"Well it isn't my fault that you send me mixed signals," he said flippantly.

"Well you know what? My _brain _is sending _me _mixed signals," I hissed, "So excuse me for being a little unclear."  
"Mixed signals about what?" he asked.

I decided to be real with him for a little while.

I spun around and glared at him. "About you _obviously. _You're an impossible being, you know. You're hot one minute then you're cold then. You're high one day then you're sober the next. And when you're high you're a completely different person. Sometimes I think you don't even realize how outrageous you act when you're like that . . . And when you're sober, it's like the complete opposite. You're cryptic and secretive and sometimes, I just know you're lying to me."

"But at the same time," I went on, my voice softening, "You're the only person I've ever wanted to get close to. You're the only other person I've ever really thought of as an equal, sometimes. And you know what it's like to know things you don't want to know - to be able to do things other people can't do. And you're the only person . . . The only person whose ever actually cared about me. I mean - you're the first person who ever wanted to be my friend. The first person who ever tried to help me or look out for me."

"But I'm still so confused," I continued, "Because you're hardly ever that person. That person whose smart and caring . . . The one I respect. Most of the time you're just this . . . this crazy stoner who goes around singing and ranting about alien invasions, eating _Snickers _bars without a care in the world. And I just . . . I just can't respect that side of you."

He stared at me blankly while I did my whole speech, wordlessly. Even after I stopped, he didn't say anything. He just stared at me with a blank expression, his grey eyes were bottomless, full of so many emotions and thoughts. None of which I could understand at all.

"How you can respect any side of me I'll never understand," he muttered darkly before walking away.


	20. Suspicious Girl

**Suspicious Girl**

I was on my way to lunch that Monday, when some seemingly random boy bumped into me. My government notebook which I had been about to return to my locker slipped from my hands and fell on the floor, several papers falling out of it. I expected the guy to mumbled an apology and then help me pick my stuff up, like a normal person. Surprisingly though, he didn't.

"Good going klutz," he snapped at me in an unfamiliar British accent and kept walking.  
"Hey!" I growled, angrily grabbing his sleeve, "This was your fault. Pick these up."

He turned around to face me and I decided that I'd never seen him before. He must've been new. He was much taller then me, probably about six foot. His blonde hair was neat and he was dressed in unusually nice attire for a teenager. Clean hole-less jeans and a grey graphic t-shirt under a black sports jacket.

_"Pretty bitchy eh," _he thought, _"Nice rack though by the looks of it. Wouldn't kill her to loose a few buttons on that blouse though."  
_I glared at him even more heatedly. If only he knew I could read every thought that went through his mind.

"Can I 'elp you wit' somethin'?" he hissed.  
"Yes," I said venomously, pointing at my fallen notebook, "Clean that up. It was your fault. You bumped into me. Maybe back in England it's acceptable to do that sort of thing. But not here."

"I'd always 'eard that Americans were lazy," he sneered. But he ended up sinking down to his knees to retrieve my things anyway. With a scowl on his face, he ushered the loose papers back inside and stood back up. He roughly thrust the notebook back into my hands.

"Is her majesty pleased?" he hissed, "Or perhaps I should fetch you some tea? Would that make you happy?"  
"I'd be most happy if you got the hell out of my way," I snarled and shoved past him on my way.

He glared at my back as I strode away for a moment before letting his eyes drift down to my ass. I would've gone and snapped at him again but that would mean revealing that I somehow knew he was looking at my ass when my back was turned. So I muttered unhappily under my breath and rounded the corner to my locker. I put my book away before continuing my trip to the cafeteria. I approached my table and noticed Will was sitting across from where he usually sat. I was surprised to see him since he hadn't been here this morning. But his dark brown, purple-tipped hair was a dead give away. I walked around the table to my usual spot and froze when I saw his face.

He looked . . . like someone had mugged him. He had some light bruising on his jaw, neck, and cheeks. Just faint little bruises. They dulled in comparison to the two black eyes he had. Around both of his eyes were severely dark bruises. The eyelids themselves weren't swollen though, so I could see his grey eyes perfectly. See the sadness and pain in them. With the two nearly black bruises around his eyes he looked kind of like a raccoon. A very sullen raccoon of course.

I had just seen him Saturday night and he'd been fine. I'd left shortly after I had poured my soul out to him and he had dismissed it. And even though I was still confused and slightly hurt by what he'd said, it didn't mean I didn't care about what happened to him.

"Oh my God Will," I exclaimed, "What the hell happened to you?"  
The rest of the table was dead quiet for a moment. Heather and Mike weren't being all gushy, and Kristy and Aaron weren't bickering. And Juliet hadn't yet arrived to whine.

"I fell," Will mumbled, eyes downcast.  
"You _fell_? As in down an elevator shaft?" I demanded.

It wasn't until I'd seen Will's face that everything had clicked for me. All the pieces just fell into place because I finally stopped denying the facts and _let _them fall into place. Someone was abusing Will, it was obvious. The drugs, the secretiveness, the injuries. It all made sense. I just hadn't been able to put the pieces together until I saw him with two black eyes. Because you can't get two black eyes from just a common accident, someone has to _give _you two black eyes.

"No. I just fell," he lied feebly, still not meeting my eyes, "Down the stairs."  
"Mhm. _Sure _you did," I hissed sarcastically, making it clear that I didn't believe him. I sat down between Kristy and Aaron with a huff and crossed my arms.

I was extremely frustrated and angry now. Will was being _abused _and he wouldn't even say anything about it! Why hadn't he told somebody! He could've told his mother; surely Bindy didn't know about this, she didn't seem like the kind of person who would sit by quietly if she knew what was going on. He could've told a teacher or the guidance counselor; abuse of this magnitude was defiantly illegal. For God's sake, he could've told me!

It was awkwardly quiet for a while. Everyone at the table knew Will was lying. But they all thought that he'd gotten into a fight with somebody. Except Heather. She knew. She knew that his step-brothers (and maybe even his dad too) were abusing him. There wasn't a doubt in her mind anymore. She'd heard the screaming from inside that house on Saturday.

The silence was broken when Juliet skipped over towing none other then the new British kid I'd bumped into in the hall. Perfect. Just what I needed right then. Am annoying jerk with an accent who was no doubt going to make this lunch period even more horrific then it was destined to be.

"Hi guys," Juliet chirped, "This is my new friend August. He's from England! Isn't that cool? August, these are my friends Will, Kristy, Aaron, Mike, Heather, and Amunet."  
She pointed us all out but was so preoccupied by the new kid that she didn't even notice Will's two black eyes.

Everyone mumbled hello's to the blonde British kid, except Will and I. For obvious reasons. Juliet sat down next to Kristy and August sat down next to her. This August guy was a lot more perceptive and a lot less self absorbed then Juliet though, so he noticed Will's two black eyes. Unfortunately, he was also a huge jackass.

"Oh. Two black eyes. Abusive boyfriend 'eh sweetheart?" he teased Will, winking at him.  
Will made it clear he didn't find it very funny. "Fuck off," he snarled, displaying a very rare flare of his temper. He was usually so easy-going and laid-back. Seeing him angry was . . . unusual.

"Seriously though mate, what 'appened to you?" he wondered. His voice was genuine but he was still smirking.  
"I fell," Will growled, but he kept his eyes on the table.

"Fell 'eh? As into someone's fist?" August inquired.  
_"He sounds just like Amunet," _Kristy thought. I seethed because she was right.

"No," Will said angrily, lifting his eyes to glare at August, "I fell down the stairs."  
"Mhm. Sure ya did hot shot," August said sarcastically.

_"Just. Like. Amunet." _Kristy's mental voice nagged me again. I suppressed a groan.  
"You know what, I'm not in the mood for this," Will muttered, "I need a hit. Wanna come Kristy?"

"Okay," she chirped eagerly, getting up. Will got up slowly, wincing slightly, and walked away with Kristy hot on his heels. I noticed that he was trying to conceal a limp. I was so intent on watching Will that I hadn't noticed that August was now right next to me. With Kristy gone, he was free to scoot right next to me. I felt a warm hand on my thigh and I jumped slightly.

I swatted his hand away. "Ew. Don't touch me. I know what you do with those hands," I growled at him, sliding away from him and closer to Aaron. I was trading one perv for another. At least Aaron was just teasing when he acted like that though. This guy was serious. He thought that I had a nice body and figured it was worth a tap. Ew was the only response I had to that. Just ew. Fucking pig.

"Not yet you don't," he purred in his annoying British accent. It would've been a sexy if it wasn't for the words he was saying.  
"Perv," I growled before following Will's lead by getting up and leaving.

I stomped away from the table, resisting the urge to walk backwards so he couldn't ogle my ass. I decided go out and get some decent food in town. I had gym next period anyway, I could skip and take my time eating. I walked out of the building and went down to the parking lot. On my way to the car I saw Will and Kristy leaning over by a tree. The same spot where Will had kissed me. I pushed away the memory.

"Heylo Amunet!" Kristy called and then giggled, indicating that she was high. She never said hi to me when she was sober.  
"Hello," I mumbled listlessly, pausing.

Will stood next to her, a small bag of white powder in his hand. But he wasn't high yet. He was just staring at it while Kristy twirled around in circles and giggled like a maniac.  
"Will," I said, "Can I talk to you?"

He looked back and forth between me and the bag in his hand for a moment. Before placing the bag in the pocket of his denim jacket.  
"Kristy," he said, grabbing her shoulder, "Why don't you go back inside?"

She giggled again. "Okay!" she chirped before dancing and spinning her way back to the building, leaving Will and I alone. He didn't approach me, just leaned up against the tree and crossing his arms over his chest. I took a steps closer to him, seeing as he wouldn't come closer to me.

"So . . . what did you want to talk about?" he asked.  
"You know what," I said pointedly.

"Actually, I don't," he said defiantly.  
"Don't play dumb," I snapped, "You know I want to talk about how you got all those bruises, and that limp, and the black eyes."

"I told you," he snapped back, "I fell down the stairs."  
"Oh really?" I challenged, "And how exactly did that happen?"

"I was at my dad's house and was going down to the basement to get something for him. I tripped over a boot that my idiot step-brother had left there," he lied. He was a pretty good liar, actually. His stories had just the right amount of details and he even through in a few extra adjectives to make it sound like it really did happen. But I knew better.

"Why do you insist on lying to me Will?" I demanded.  
"I'm not lying! Why does everybody keep making such a big deal out of all this? This isn't the first time I fell you know."

"That's the point!" I exclaimed, "You get hurt all the time! And now . . . Well nobody gets two black eyes by accident."  
"Evidently," he snarled, glaring at me heatedly, "Someone did."

"Will," I sighed, "Just stop this. I know you're lying. You don't have to keep up this facade."  
He stared at me for a long moment. And for a minute I thought he was going to confess that he was being abused. He crushed those hopes when he spoke though.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed before turning and trying to hide his limp as he stalked away. He went back up to the school, leaving me all alone. I sighed heavily. He just wasn't cooperating and I didn't understand why. You'd think he'd want someone to help him. But no, he was just too stubborn. Well it didn't matter.

I was going to get to the bottom of this and I didn't need Will's help to do it.


	21. Nosy Girl

**Nosy Girl**

The next morning, I walked into library and was surprised to see Will sitting at a table in the back, all alone. I was surprised because he was almost always late, and classes didn't start for almost another hour. I'd gotten here earlier then I usually had to do a little research on child abuse. I would've done it at home but my Internet had been out, leaving me without a source of information. So I'd decided to come to school a little earlier then usual and hop on one of the computers. Besides, if someone asked me what I was doing, I could pass it off as a project for the psychology class I was taking. Of course, I hadn't even entertained the thought of Will being there.

The room was practically empty at this time, aside from him and the half-asleep librarian stamping books at the front counter. Will sat as far away from her as humanly possible, all alone at the table in the farthest corner. The tips of his hair were bright blue now and hung down in front of his face, hiding his bruised eyes. He was staring down at the table in front of him, actually working on something. Although the strokes of his pencil were in strange enough patterns to make me question what exactly he was working on.

He didn't look up as I walked inside and I didn't expect him to. Still, this completely squashed my plans of doing research. Will wasn't stupid; he would know exactly what I was doing. So I walked across the room and sat down across from him. Still, he didn't look up. He even tilted his head forward even more, letting his bangs cover even more of his eyes. I looked at what he was doing and decided that it was one of his drawings. I couldn't tell what it was upside down.

I wanted to confront him again about his family right up front. It was more my style then small talk, but I knew that Will would just get up and leave if I was too forward.  
"So . . . What are you doing?" I wondered.

"A project for one of my art classes," he mumbled, still not looking up at me. Something about the way he said 'art classes' made me smile slightly to myself. Maybe it was just the thought that he was doing something that made him happy. Despite how horridly impossible and messed up he was, ever since Saturday I'd decided to quit denying my feelings for Will.

"Oh . . . Can I see it?" I asked.  
"It's not finished," he muttered. His dead tone demanding an immediate end to that topic.

"So . . . Uh you dyed your hair again?" I said. Good God I hated small talk. I was horrible at it. I preferred to be forward.  
"Yeah, last night. I got tired of the purple," he told me.

I flopped around mentally for another topic again. But shortly gave it up. This wasn't who I was. I wasn't subtle or sensitive. I was up front and a little aggressive.  
"Look at me Will," I said sharply in a harsh voice, a severe opposite to my previous casual tone.

He didn't, as per his usual behavior. I was hardly surprised.  
"William," I snarled in an even harsher voice, "I said look at me."

He made an aggravated noise, huffing out an annoyed breath, before he finally lifted his head. "Yes?" he growled.  
"We need to talk," I said in a hushed tone.

"Whatever could you possibly mean Amunet?" he asked in a clipped tone. His usage of my full name made it painfully clear that he wasn't in a good mood.  
"You know exactly what I mean _William_," I hissed, using his full name as well.

He glared at me with an uncommon heat. Will hardly ever glared, but he glared at me just then. Now his smoldering eyes weren't making me melt, they were making me want to cower. "If you want to talk about my family again," he growled, "Then save it. Because I refuse to have that conversation with you."

"And why is that Will?" I pryed shamelessly, "Are you too embarrassed to talk about? Or are you afraid you're dad will find out you told someone? Or is it your step-brothers abusing you."  
"No," he snarled, his eyes stormy, "I don't want to talk because it's _pointless_."

"Pointless?" I repeated, "As in you think nobody can help you?"  
"No. As in I don't need help," he said.

"Will _please_," I practically begged, "Stop being so . . . _defensive_."  
"I'm not defensive," he said too quickly.

"Yes you are," I said, lowering my voice, "And you're being unreasonable. You _know _that I know what they do to you . . . Why won't you admit it?"  
He looked over my shoulder at the half-deaf librarian at the counter twenty feet away. "Fine. You want to know the truth?" he growled.

"I made that obvious," I muttered.  
"The truth is that my step family . . . hates me," he said.

"Hates you? As in abuses you?" I asked.  
"If you want to label it . . ." he muttered.

"No I don't want to label it," I said, "But I have to. Because when you walk into school with two black eyes it's obvious that you're being abused."  
He sighed and knotted his fingers through his hair. "My step brothers," he sighed, "They just . . . hate me. They're jealous that I have a dad and they don't."

"So your dad . . . He doesn't hit you?" I asked quietly.  
He lowered his eyes. "I didn't say that,' he mumbled.

"Then-then why are your step-brothers jealous?" I stammered out in confusion and shock.  
"Just because my dad hits me doesn't mean he doesn't love me," he mumbled.

I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything. Or possibly crying. That was just a horrible thing to hear. He sounded so . . . convinced. So convinced that his dad could abuse him and still love him. I knew it wasn't an uncommon mind set for victims of abuse . . . But seeing it up close . . . It was just heartbreaking.

"Don't look at me like that," he said quietly, avoiding my eyes.  
"Don't look at you like what?" I asked guiltily.

"Like you feel sorry for me," he mumbled, still refusing to look at me, "I _hate _that."  
I'd never heard Will use the word hate before. He liked things and disliked things. But as far as I knew he never hated anything or anyone. He just wasn't that kind of person.

"How can I not feel sorry for you Will?" I hissed quietly, "Your dad and your step-brothers beat you and you act like it doesn't bother you!"  
He looked at me then. Right into my eyes. "I'm not acting," he said, his eyes clear as day, "It really doesn't bother me." I stared past the bruises and into his eyes to see that he didn't seem to be lying. And that was the sad part.

"How can - how can you_ say _that?" I demanded, "That-that's insane! How can you even _think_ that?"  
"Why does it seem so impossible to you that I don't mind it," he said, seeming genuinely confused, "I mean, I _know _it's not normal and that it's illegal. And I'm not going to lie and say that I _enjoy _it. I don't. It's just . . . I can deal with it. I've gotten used to it."

"You make getting abused sound like an uncomfortable pair of shoes," I muttered, "Like it's something you can adjust to."  
"I _have _adjusted to it," he said, "Besides, I don't even live with him anyway. It's just every other weekend. No big deal."

"Really? Because I don't get abused every other weekend," I said, "In fact, I've never been abused."  
"You wouldn't understand Net," he sighed, "Your family functions. Am I right? It's just you and your mother and you're happy. Right? Well . . . Not all families are so simple."

"And not all children are abused by their fathers," I retorted.  
"Nettie, you have to learn how to quit while you're ahead. I told you the truth, just like you wanted. And now that I have, you can stop bugging me about it. All right? Now let it go. Pretend you don't know a thing. And don't even think about telling anybody. Because if you do, you'll regret it," he snarled, grabbing his stuff and getting up, "I won't let you, or anyone else, ruin my family again."

And with that, he stormed out of the library. Leaving me all alone. We both seemed to have a flare for abandoning one another.


	22. Bad Girl

**Bad Little Girl**

Was I stalking Will? No, I was certainly not stalking him. It was a mere coincidence that I kept bumping into him like this. I had just stepped out to go get some pizza that Friday night at a place a few towns over, because it was my mom's favorite place. But then I'd seen Will, while on my way into the pizzeria. I had just barely caught sight of his familiar colorful hair as he slipped into an alley.

Curious over our encounter on Tuesday and as to what he was doing all the way out here, I did something that wasn't too intelligent. I decided to follow him. _That _was when I started stalking him. It's important to keep in mind that I hadn't originally been following him, but once I saw him . . . Well, I couldn't help myself. Will was so mysterious all the time and now there he was, walking into an alley late at night. Suspicious, suspicious, suspicious. It wasn't like I could just walk away.

I immediately ran down the street to the mouth of the alley, only to see that Will had disappeared around the corner. I crept down the alley, staying a ways behind Will but always making sure I could see the back of leather jacket. I was constantly fearful that he would hear my heart slamming away in my chest. But he just kept on walking, not seeming to fear my footsteps or my heartbeat. He continued on for what seemed like ages, making me anxious as to where we were going.

Finally he stopped at a black metal door with nothing on it. He knocked on it once and the door was opened slightly. From where I was hiding around the corner I couldn't see who was on the other end. I couldn't even hear his or her thoughts, which was strange. Nothing was said between Will and this person, but the door opened slightly more and Will stepped in. By this time, I was practically exploding with curiosity. I _had_ to follow Will inside, even though the metal door had closed.

I slinked towards the door and knocked once, not sure why I thought I could get in. The door opened, surprisingly, and a large man was standing there. He had a buzz cut of dark hair and a stone cold expression. I had no idea what was lurking behind his dark eyes. I couldn't read his thoughts at all. This was the second time this had happened to me in my entire life. And it wasn't just that - I couldn't read the thoughts of anybody inside, assuming of course that there were people inside.

The man looked at me for a short moment in contemplation before moving aside to let me in. Surprised, I stepped inside. It looked like I was in some kind of club. A really _freaky _club. There were exotic dancers on stripper poles dancing on raised platforms placed sporadically about the room. The lights were low but not so low that it made it difficult to see; it just gave the room a mysterious atmosphere. There were different paintings on the walls; all dark and disturbing. A lot of the paintings showed demonic succubus and incubuses. There was an extremely high domed ceiling with a painting of hell on it, like a twisted version of the Sistine Chapel.

On the other side of the large room there was a stage where they were playing loud, violent, unfamiliar music. However, the music wasn't loud enough to keep me from noticing that there were no thoughts in this whole room. And this room was hardly empty. It was full of people, overflowing with people practically. All of these people shared a few common traits. Almost all of them had tattoos, piercings, black-leather clothes, or multi-colored hair. Everyone had at least one of these; usually more then one. Even the band and strippers looked similar.

I stood by the door for a moment in shock. Never had I ever encountered something like this; an entire building of people whose minds I couldn't read. It was disorienting. The only person whose mind I'd ever been unable to read was Will's. And that was because I was a psychic vampire . . . Did that mean that everyone here was a psychic vampire? That was impossible . . . right?

After almost a minute of standing there, shell shocked, I shook myself out of it. I already stood out here like a sore thumb; standing there like an idiot wouldn't help much. I had to find out what the hell this place was. I made my brain focus on finding Will. I didn't spot him in the crowd. I decided I would have to go searching for him. I ignored the looks I got from the strange club-goers as I edged around them all, searching for Will.

I noticed a hallway off to the side and figured he might be in there. I slipped through the archway to find the bar. In here there were two more pole dancers on raised platforms and a fair amount of people, but not as horridly crowded as the other room. There was a variety of exotic looking patrons in here. Men with dyed hair, grills, and tattoos covering their entire arms. Women dressed in leather jumpsuits with cleavage down to their bellybuttons and other women in low slung jeans and bikini tops, revealing peculiar tramp stamps. All dancing or drinking or making out.

Two patrons got my particular interest. Laying across the bar on his back was Will. He was dressed differently then he was at school. He had taken off the leather jacket he'd been wearing when he was outside, leaving him in a black sleeveless shirt, black jeans, and black combat boots. Now that I was up close I could see that he must've put more colors in his hair when he got home from school. Now the tips of his hair were neon blue, purple, red, and green. It looked pretty exotic, reminding me faintly of a tropical parrot.

Straddling him was a women dressed in tight low-riding jeans and a black fishnet shirt over a red bikini top. She had long white-blonde hair with the bottom half dyed purple, and looked about twenty or so. She was sitting on Will's stomach, pouring a wine glass of some inky black fluid down his throat. I stood and stared in confusion and shock for a moment, just watching.

When the glass was empty the woman lifted it victoriously. Some of the club goers cheered. Will smiled stunningly and sat up and smashed his mouth against hers. The people watching whooped and made cat-call noises. I felt my jaw go slack. The two of them were still on top of the bar, making out intensely. The woman was sitting in Will's lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. He had his hands on her ass, pressing her tighter against him. Her hands were knotted tightly in his multi-colored hair.

"Will?" I chocked out in shock.

He broke away from the girl and turned to look at me. The faint bruises on his face from the previous weekend were mostly gone but his black eyes still remained, although they were much fainter. He looked extremely surprised to see me. He motioned for the woman to get off of him and she did, jumping lightly off the counter. Will slid off the counter next and approached me.

Even though I was shocked and a little angry, I had to admit, Will looked really fucking sexy right then. His bare arms were unbruised surprisingly, but very sexily muscular. His jeans were tighter then the kind he usually wore and the combat boots were kind of hot too. His messy colorful hair looked pretty 'sick' as well. Not to mention the way he was walking right then was alluring; sort of stalking, making him look feral and even more dangerous. All in all, I couldn't help but be a little turned on.

"Let me guess," he said when he reached me, "You followed me here. Am I right?"  
I shrugged guilty. "Sort of."

He raised an eyebrow. "Elaborate," he instructed.  
"I saw you slip into the alley while I was getting pizza," I explained, "And then I decided to follow you."

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," he muttered.  
"What the hell _is _this place?" I demanded.

He smiled stunningly again, flashing his ultra-white teeth. "This, my friend, is _Nightmare. _The psychic vampire watering hole of the tri-state area."  
"Psychic vampires?" I spluttered, "As in everyone here is a psychic vampire?"

Good God was I the only normal one of my species?

"You didn't notice the lack of thoughts?" he asked.  
"I noticed but - but there's so many people here!" I exclaimed.

"There are a lot more out there then you'd think. But still, considering, this isn't that many people. This is the entire psychic vampire population of three states combined," he said.  
"So . . . you're telling me that this is a psychic vampire club," I asked.

"Eh. Not exactly. It's more of an underground gathering place," he explained, "More goes on here then just partying."  
"I can see that," I sneered, recovering from my shock, "By the way you were sucking face with that harlot over there."

"Xana is not a harlot," he said, "She happens to be a very good friend of mine."  
"Do you make out with all your friends?" I demanded.

He raised a challenging eyebrow at me. I knew he was referring to when he'd kissed me two weeks ago. It was the first time he'd ever given any acknowledgment of it since.  
"Well, maybe you do," I said, trying not to blush.

"So what do you say Nettie?" he asked, "Care to party with your fellow vampire brethren?"  
"I don't do parties," I said automatically.

"Come on Net," he complained, "This is different. Listen? No thoughts. Just enjoy yourself for once, huh?"  
"Are you implying that I don't know how to have fun?" I demanded.

"Yeah, little bit. I've never seen you have real _fun _in the whole four months I've known you."  
I took that personally. I knew I wasn't a crazy party-animal. But nobody wants to hear that they're not fun. "I take that as a challenge," I snapped.

"Good," he said, "Prove me wrong."  
"I will," I hissed.

Ever since Saturday when I'd told Will how I'd felt about him, I'd been desperate to get him to give some sign that my feelings were reciprocated. He'd hardly talked to me this week - not since he spilled about his abuse on Tuesday. But since then, he'd only talked to me when he was high. Now it was Friday, almost a week since I poured my heart out to him, and he still hadn't acknowledged it. I was at the end of my rope. Will's distant attitude towards me was gnawing a hole inside of me; I needed to find out how he really felt. I had to drive out this empty feeling I had inside. I needed to feel complete. I was desperate.

I unzipped my black jacket and handed it to a surprised Will.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, seeming cautious.

"Proving that I can be fun," I snapped at him. I took my glasses off and handed them to him as well. I wasn't blind without my glasses; I just couldn't see anything far away or read. Not like either of those things were important now. I carefully handed my glasses to him so they wouldn't break.

I took the clip out of my hair and let it fall out of the bun and down my shoulders. I shook it out once before thrusting the clip at Will.  
"Well I can't have fun with all those layers," I snapped. Now I only had my black boots, my skinny jeans, and black blouse.

"I guess not," he said, putting my glasses and hair clip in my jacket pocket. He then hung my jacket up on the coat rack by the bar entrance.  
"So, you want a drink?" he asked.  
"Yeah. What was that black stuff you were drinking - I mean having poured down your throat?" I asked with a sneer.

He rolled his eyes. "It's called Elixir. Fucking great stuff. I don't even want to tell you what's in it," he said guiding me over to the bar. Instead of sitting down at a stool, Will hopped on the counter. I followed his example and sat down next to him. He smirked faintly at me before smacking his hand on the counter twice. A moment later the bartender placed two wine glasses glasses of black inky fluid next to us. Obviously Will was a regular here. He had this thing down to a science.

"For you," he said, handing one glass to me. I held it delicately in my hand for a minute.  
"Is there alcohol in this?" I asked, trying to hide how nervous I was. Despite the fact that I was sixteen, I'd never had alcohol before. It sounds outrageous, but it's easy to avoid peer pressure when you hate parties and have no friends.

"Not just alcohol," he said, smirking before knocking back the whole thing in one swig. Not wanting to be outdone, I did the same thing. I guzzled down the whole thing, nearly chocking. It tasted . . . extremely strange. I couldn't describe the taste exactly. It was bitter and sweet at the same time. It had a weird texture, kind of powdery. It crackled on my tongue like pop rocks. My body immediately reacted to it though. I jolted slightly in surprise to the surge.

Will smirked at me, smacking his hand down on the counter twice again. Two more drinks materialized, at the same time Xana did, Will's friend who he liked to make out with. She leaned up against the bar directly next to Will and smacked her hand on it once. The bartender handed her a wine glass of Elixir.

"Hey Jailbait," she said to Will, "This the girl you left me hangin' for?" Her voice was serious but she was smirking.  
Will smirked back. "Sorry Xana, but I wasn't expecting to see her here."

She threw down her Elixer before answering. "No worries Jailbait," she said, "But you better make up for lost time later."  
She seductivly ran her hand down his leg before strutting way.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Jailbait?"  
He shrugged as he knocked back another Elixir. "It's a nickname."

"How many of those have you had?" I asked, looking at the full one in my hand.  
"I dunno. Like four," he said with another shrug.

I was surprised. They weren't big glasses but I'd only had one I already felt like I could run a marathon. I also had the urge _to _run a marathon. I felt hyperness taking over me. I didn't understand how Will was so calm after four. Well, he probably had a higher tolerance for alcohol then me. Actually, I was sure he did.

I guzzled down my second and smiled excitedly at him. "Wanna dance?" I asked, feeling like I'd just been given the world's most amazing energy drink. I wondered distantly what else was in this drink.  
"Hold on," he said, smacking his hand down three times in a row, "If I want to get as drunk as you I'm going to need some more provisions."

The bartender appeared with three glasses.  
"Thanks man," Will said before knocking back all three. When he was finished, he slammed the third down on the counter. His eyes were wild and his cheeks were flushed. He smiled at me excitedly.

"_Now _I'm ready to dance," he panted out, hopping off the counter. I followed and started dancing the second my feet hit the floor. Normally, I didn't dance. I just wasn't a dancer. But I was already drunk from whatever crazy shit I'd just drank, so dancing was not out of the question.

I lifted my hands above my head and began dancing like a maniac. The whole room was pulsating like it had a heartbeat. The background kept getting fuzzy and changing color. The only thing I could really focus on was Will and the way he moved. He was dancing in front of me and I found myself temporarily mesmerized by the motion of his hips.

For reasons I still don't understand, I decided to take my shirt off. My suddenly clumsy fingers struggled to undo the buttons of my blouse but eventually I did. I slipped it off and tossed it into the crowd of the bar. Now all I had on was my jeans, boots, and black bra. I didn't feel the slightest bit awkward. Partially because this place was crawling with half-naked sluts, but also because I was completly trashed.

I smirked at the way Will was staring at my chest. I began to dance more rapidly, giggling at the way Will stared at my bouncing boobs. I began to laugh ecstastically when he placed his warm hands on my bare waist, which was slick with sweat. He pulled me closer to him and I giggled like a lunatic. Eagerly I pressed my body against his, liking the way it felt. Actually, I liked the way everything felt. Everything was so surreal. Everything had a pattern that slithered and pulsated; the floor, the ceiling, everything. And everything seemed to have texture. Like I could _feel _the things I was seeing. Except Will. I felt like I had to actually feel him to feel him. And I really wanted to feel him.

I flung my arms around his neck and he immediately smashed his lips to mine. This kiss was different then my first. This kiss seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. Knowledge, passion, lust, love, joy . . . Everything was just pouring out of this kiss. Nothing had ever felt as soft as his warm lips felt against mine.

I just couldn't get enough of him. I was ravaging his lips. Crushing them against mine, running my tongue over them, biting on them. It was like Will's lips were the fountain of youth. Every time I interacted with them in a different way, I was given more energy, more life. I just needed them.

We didn't break apart when Will's back slammed into the bar. We just kept going. I had my tongue practically down his throat, as I drown in the ecstasy that was Will's mouth. The taste was divine. I could taste the bitter-sweet taste of Elixir on his breath and could feel the lingering texture of it on his tongue.

I tangled my fingers into Will's hair, loving the softness of it. It was like I could just _feel _the vibrant colors in it. But I could _physically_ feel Will's warm hands as they slipped under my bra to cup my breasts, and I didn't care on the slightest. Nothing could hurt me here. I was in heaven, I was on cloud nine. This was no nightmare, it was a dream come true. A dream wilder then my wildest dreams.


	23. Risky Girl

**Risky Girl**

I opened my eyes to a particularly pleasant sight. Sleeping in the passenger seat of my car was Will. He had his head lolled to the side, his eyes closed and his femininely long lashes brushing against his bruised cheekbones. His shaggy hair framed his angel's face in artfully colorful strands. His full lips had little nicks on them, as if someone had nipped at them continuously. They were parted slightly as he breathed slowly in and out.

I stared at him in confusion, trying to force myself to remember what was going on. My head was throbbing, my stomach churning. I felt sick in all possible dimensions and I couldn't, for the life of me, remember what the hell was going on. All I knew at the moment was that I was in my car, parked behind some building, with Will sleeping in my passenger seat.

I looked around the car, trying to find something to jog my memory. My jacket was sprawled on the dashboard, which made me wonder what I wearing. I looked down to see that I was wearing a black leather jacket zipped up practically to my throat. It was too big for me and I didn't recognize it. Looking around made me realize that I wasn't seeing well. I touched the area under my eyes and sure enough, no glasses.

What the fuck was going on?

I looked at the sleeping Will again, hoping that might provide some answers. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, which made me wonder where his jacket was. My eyes drifted up to his lips, subconsciously, causing me to take notice of the little teeth marks on them again. I frowned in confusion. I was familiar with most of Will's habits, but biting his lip was not one of them. And then it all clicked for me. I was suddenly assaulted with brief flashes of memory. I remembered those lips . . . I remembered biting them and licking them, _ravaging _them. I remembered that and much more.

I screamed. I'd never been a screamer (And no that is not an innuendo) but I couldn't help but scream just then. Oh God . . . I'd gotten drunk and did God know's what with Will. Will! How could I have been so fucking stupid? That wasn't the kind of girl I was. I was _smarter _then that.

Will stirred and moaned but didn't open his eyes. "Fuck it Milo, leave Mel alone already," he mumbled groggily.  
I decided not to register what he was saying, writing it off as him being hung over and half asleep. Instead, I kept screaming.

"God damn it," he growled, opening his eyes and rubbing them sleepily.  
"Nettie?" he said, looking at me in confusion, "What the hell? Why are you screaming?"

I stopped but didn't answer him. Resigned to just stare at him in horror. He squinted slightly at the faint morning light coming in through the windshield. He blinked a few times and put a hand to his head. He looked around the car, at himself, at me.

"Okay . . . how drunk was I?" he asked, his voice scratchy like he had a cold.  
"Probably not as drunk as I was!" I exclaimed, panicking.

"Dude why are you screaming?" he demanded, "Can't you see I'm hung over?"  
"I'm screaming because of what we did last night!"

"What are you talking about? We didn't do anything . . . Well except make out and lose two a hundred dollars at black jack," he said, "But that last part was all you."  
"Wait - so we didn't have intercourse?" I asked.

He laughed at me, actually laughed at me. "You mean fuck?" he asked, "No, we didn't."  
"Are you sure?" I asked, too worried to even care that he was laughing at me.

"Yes I'm sure," he said, laughing slightly to himself, "A man knows these things."  
I sighed in relief, resting my head back against the seat. "Oh thank God."

"Is the idea of sex with me so unappealing?" he teased.  
"Quite frankly yes," I snapped the half lie at him.

"God, you're the only person I know who can be bitchy this early in the morning," he muttered.  
I looked at the clock on my dashboard. "It's noon," I muttered and then I let it register. "Oh Christ it's noon! Oh my God, my mother doesn't know where I am! She's probably worried sick!"

I whipped my cell phone out of my jeans pocket, thanking God that I hadn't dropped it at anytime last night.  
"What a pity," he quipped, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the seat.

I ignored him as I speed-dialed my house and pressed the phone to my ear, waiting. She answered on the second ring.  
_"Amunet! Oh my God where are you? Are you okay? I was so worried!" _she ranted.

I cringed at the relief in her voice. She must've been driving herself mad with worry last night. All because I'd been stupid and irresponsible. My mother didn't deserve to have to worry about me.  
"I'm fine Mom," I promised.

_"Oh thank God,_" she sighed_, "What happened to you last night? Are you sick? You sound sick?"  
_No, that was just the alcohol in the five Elixirs I'd had scraping my esophagus.

"Uh yeah. I got sick on the way to the pizzeria," I lied, "So I stopped at Heather's because I didn't feel well enough to drive. I would've called but I was . . . I was throwing up constantly. I think I might've picked up a stomach bug. Anyway, I didn't feel well enough to remember to call. I'm very sorry."

There, two birds with one stone. This lie explained my abscence and also why I would probably be vomiting when I got home.

_"Oh honey I'm so sorry! Want me to come get you?" _she asked.  
"Uh - no, no that's fine. Uh . . . I can get home on my own. I'm feeling a little better," I struggled to come up with an excuse. "I'll be home in a few hours. I just want to rest for a bit longer here."

_"Oh well . . . alright. If you're sure you can drive. Just be careful," _she told me.  
"I will," I promised.

_"Okay. Love you."_  
"Love you," I said, "Bye."

I closed the phone and sighed, closing my eyes as I slumped back against the seat.  
"Mommy's not coming to get you?" he sneered. Sarcasm wasn't something Will used in normal conversation. Unlike me, he was only sarcastic when he was agitated.

"No. I told her I'd be home in a few hours," I snapped, "Don't you listen?"  
"Rarely," he said dryly. He didn't seem to be in a good mood. It was weird - I'd never been hung over before and I didn't feel too drastically horrible. Sure, I felt sick. But I didn't feel crankier. But Will . . . Well I was under the impression that Will got wasted every Friday night. Yet he was unusually bad tempered hung over.

"I've noticed," I snapped. See? I'm my usual cheerful self. Hung over or not.  
"Have you now?" he mumbled, eyes still closed, "Not too busy fucking my mouth with your tongue?"

I seethed and was glad he couldn't see my cheeks flushing, as I knew they were. I wasn't a blusher but God damn it, how could I not? I didn't need to struggle for something clever to say, I already had it, in my head. The problem was I was so flustered I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth.

"Speechless? Hm that's new," he mused groggily, "That usually only happens when your tongue is down my throat."  
Still the come back wouldn't pass my lips. All I could muster up was a pathetic, "You're a jerk."

"You know what would make me less of a jerk?" he asked, "You buying me coffee."  
"You want _me _to buy _you _coffee?" I demanded. In all the romance movies, the guy always bumped into the quiet girl at a bookstore or on the street, and then bought _her _coffee after saving her from nearly tripping.

But of course this was no romantic comedy, this was Will.

"Yes," he said stubbornly, pouting slightly.  
"Why should I?"

"Because you're rich and I'm poor?" he suggested.  
"I thought you hated pity," I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him in accusation.

"Yeah but I know how to use it to my advantage," he said.  
"Oh fine," I sighed in defeat, "C'mon, let's go."

"Can I have my jacket back first?" he asked.  
I looked down and realized it was Will's jacket that I was wearing. "Oh. Okay," I said, unzipping it. Then I realized I only had my bra on underneath this. I zipped it back up, all the way up to my throat.

"What is it?" he asked.  
"I don't have a shirt on under this!" I exclaimed, once again shocked by how stupid I'd been last night. Damn alcohol. I was never drinking it again. I was lucky I hadn't lost my virginity last night.

"And this is relevant _because_ . . ." he trailed off expectantly.  
"Because I'm not taking my shirt off in front of you!"

"Little too late for that Net," he pointed out.  
I flushed again. I had to stop doing that. "In case you hadn't noticed, I was extremely drunk last night," I said stiffly.

"Oh I noticed," he said, "And took advantage of it."  
I seethed again and clenched my fists at my side.

"Oh fine Nettie," he said, covering his eyes with his hands, "Be a prude. You usually are."  
I didn't say anything, just unzipped his jacket. I was suddenly glad that there hadn't been any parking by the pizzeria last night, forcing me to park behind some pharmacy. That way no one could see me half naked in this car with some guy. I put the jacket down between us and searched for my shirt, but couldn't find it.

"Where's my shirt?" I demanded.  
"Don't you remember?" he asked, "You threw it into the crowd of people. Keep in mind, this was _before _you shoved your tongue down my throat but _after _you had two Elixirs."

I gave him a glare he couldn't see. "And I didn't get my shirt _back_?"  
"Not that I remember," he mumbled, "When the club closed I gave you my jacket for some reason and we stumbled back to your car."

"Fuck . . ." I muttered.  
"Just put your jacket on," he suggested.

"Oh. Right," I said, grabbing it off the dashboard and slipping it on. The fury interior felt weird against my bare skin.  
"Wait - where are my glasses?" I remembered.

"Try the pocket," he said, "Can I open my eyes now?"  
"Yeah," I said and he did as I checked the pocket of my coat. Sure enough, my glasses and hair clip were in there. I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jacket and put them on. Before twisted my hair back into a messy bun.

"She's backkk . . ." Will mumbled listlessly.  
"She never left," I snapped at him. Even though what'd he said had been kind of true. I hadn't been Amunet last night. I'd been Nettie. She was a different girl. She was the one whose heart belonged to Will and whose mind took a hike when he was around.

He rolled his eyes as he slipped his jacket on without zippering it, before opening the door and getting out of the car. I followed.  
"Holy shit," I muttered as I closed the door behind me, shielding my eyes, "It's so fucking bright."

"Welcome to the hangover," Will muttered as he walked around to my side of the car, although he squinted too, "Not the movie, the experience."  
I rolled my eyes. I was sure he _experienced _hangovers frequently.

"There's a coffee shop a block or so from _Nightmare_," he told me as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his leather jacket. He put them over his eyes and they covered the dark bruising around them. I stared at him for a brief second. My first thought was that I wished I had some sunglasses so my eyes wouldn't burn in this horribly bright light. My second thought was that he looked ridiculously sexy right then. With his colorful mussed hair, those tight jeans and combat boots, the leather jacket, the sunglasses. He looked like some kind of celebrity.

I walked by his side as we turned the corner from behind the pharmacy. There were some people on the street of this town, none of which where familiar with either Will or I. But still every female, no matter how old or how attractive, thought the same thing when they saw us walking together. _"What is _he _doing with her?" _I was surprised to see that Will never smirked at their thoughts like I expected. Actually, whenever someone thought that his face got a little tense. It was strange.

When we got to the coffee shop I sighed in relief. Finally, darkness. Cool darkness. The coffee shop was very dimly lit with no bright colored walls to reflect light, which I was undeniably thankful for. It was even a little cool in here. It wasn't hot outside - maybe fifty degrees, typical for early March. But I had a flush all over my skin, like I had a fever or something. This dark, cool coffee shop was the perfect place to go after a hang over, I decided. Well except back to my bed.

Will didn't take his sunglasses off despite the dim, comfortable darkness. I understood why. He'd rather this room full of strangers didn't see his two black eyes, especially since he'd have to hear what they thought about it.

"Get us a table," he told me as he went over to the counter. I decided not to snap at him for once and just pick a table. It wasn't crowded in here. It was an odd time to get coffee - noon on a Saturday? Not too bizarre, but not exactly rush hour either. There were a few people in here, mostly teenagers and young adults I noticed. All the older people got in here much earlier, I imagined.

I sat down at an empty table with two chairs, far from the window. I absently cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jacket again, listening with my mind to the girl at the counter who was flirting with Will shamelessly. She had decided that, even though she saw Will walk in with me, he was certainly not _with _me. I must be his sister, she thought, or his cousin.

I rolled my eyes. I could never pass for his cousin, let alone his sister. We looked nothing alike. I was much tanner, with darker hair and eyes. She might not have been able to see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but the skin and hair tones made it obvious we weren't related.

Some girls were so deluded . . .

Will came back over to the table, holding two drinks. I knew that he ordered himself a black coffee and he had gotten me a mocha. How he knew that I loved mocha, I did not know. Probably saw me drinking it or heard me talking about it as some time or another. He always had a talent for that - remembering insignificant little details.

He handed it to me and sat down. I ignored the thoughts of the bitchy group of fourteen year old girls clustered off to the side, whispering about how 'hot' Will was. And of course, wondering what he was doing with me. I narrowed my eyes at my drink to keep from glaring at them.

"You shouldn't let them bother you," Will said, taking a sip of his coffee.  
"Why not?" I sneered, "They're right. Someone like you would _never _be with someone like me."

Okay, so I'm aware that low self-esteem is not a trait I have ever possessed. I've always had an over inflated ego, always thinking of how _I _was too good for _Will. _But the more time I spent with him . . . and the longer he went without telling me how he really felt . . . The more I felt like maybe, just maybe, _he _was too good for _me. _That maybe this was my punishment for thinking I was better then everyone else for so many years.

"That doesn't make any sense," he muttered.  
"Yes it does. You're gorgeous and I'm just . . . plain," I finished lamely.

"I thought you of all people would know that not _everybody _is that shallow. There's more to life then looks you know," he said, "And for the record, you are not plain. You only think that because you _want _to be plain. You want to be more then a pretty face. Because you are. If you wanted to look gorgeous you could. You could put on some makeup, let your hair down, put on a low cut top . . . And then everyone would be thinking _'what is _she _doing with him?__'"_

I blushed slightly and looked down. God, why was he doing this to me? He was always playing this hot-cold game, this give-take game. He'd be all hot and heavy with me, an then he'd turn into the Ice Prince. He'd give me a compliment like that, and then he'd take it back two seconds later by insulting me somehow.

"Well thanks for that little pep talk," I mumbled, "But it doesn't change the facts. Someone like you would never be with me."  
"Why do you keep saying that?" he demanded.

"Because you made it very clear that it's true. I - I made it quite obvious that I . . . that I wanted to be with you," I struggled to say, "And you turned me down."  
I hid my eyes from him, watching my coffee cup intently as if it held the secrets of the world.

Will was quiet for what felt like a very long time. I didn't look up at him but I saw him place his sunglasses on the table in front of me. Still, I refused to look up and meet those eyes . . . To look up and see the coldness in them that I knew would be there. The coldness that would tell me that he didn't care for me. Once and for all.

"Did I ever say that I didn't want to be with you Nettie?" he finally said in a very soft, resigned voice.  
"You didn't have to," I snapped, still not meeting his eyes. I knew if I did I would lose all my resolve and just crumble like I hadn't in many, many years.

"I know you're used to knowing what everyone is thinking," he said, "But you have to realize that you _don't _know what I'm thinking. You have to wait for me to say things myself."  
"I've been waiting a week," I muttered sourily, "You've been acting like last Saturday never happened. I had to assume."

I heard him sigh and there was another long pause. "Won't you at least look at me Nettie?"  
Slowly and reluctantly, I lifted my eyes to meet his. I didn't see any coldness there. Just desperation. He had his fingers tangled in his multicolored hair in frustration.

"You had to give me time to think about that," he said.  
"I gave you a week," I said without affliction, "I never asked once."

"I know, I know. You have to understand. It's not that I don't want to be with you. It's just that I _can't_," he said.  
Part of me was glad, feeling less rejected. While another part was confused, and another part was mad that he would be so pessimistic. "Why not?" I demanded.

"You don't understand Nettie. Remember when you said there were two sides to me? And that you could only respect one of those sides? Well, if we were to go out, how could it possibly work out if you only respected me half the time? We would be just setting ourselves up to get hurt, don't you think?"

"But if you just . . . stopped taking drugs-" I tried to reason.  
"Nettie," he said, staring deep into my eyes, "I _can't _stop."

"But -" I tried again.  
"Nettie," he interrupted firmly, "I can't stop. Ever. I'm sorry but I can't."

I sighed. Realizing that I couldn't just _talk _Will out of doing drugs. It took months of rehabilitation to cure drug addictions. One conversation over coffee wouldn't do much good. But still, that didn't mean I had to resign myself to not being with Will. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. I wanted _Will _so badly. He was the only person who had ever _welcomed _me. The only person who'd looked out for me. The only person who'd ever _wanted_ to be my friend.

"Alright," I said with another sigh, "But . . . That doesn't mean we couldn't . . . try. I mean, why can't we just get to know each other a little better. I mean, I . . . _like _you. And I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place if you didn't have feelings for me too."

"Okay, I'll admit it Nettie, I like you. A lot," he said, running a hand through his hair for no reason, "But that doesn't mean I can change for you. Even though I want to." _  
_"Who said you have to change?" I asked rhetorically, "You don't have to change for me."

"But Nettie, it just wouldn't work out," he insisted, "You said it yourself you can't respect me when I do drugs. But you have to understand Net, drugs are apart of my life now. If we had met a few years ago maybe we wouldn't of had this problem . . . But it doesn't matter, because it's too late for me to change."

I didn't agree with that statement but I knew that if I voiced this thought, he would just deny it.  
"Don't you listen at _all_?" I demanded, "I said you don't have to change for me."

"You say that, but you don't mean it," he muttered, breaking eye contact with me, "You think you can change me without me even knowing it but Nettie, _I can't be changed. _I wish I could. But I can't. And once you realized that, if we were to go out, you would dump me. And you just . . . you just don't know what that would do to me."

I was glad he wasn't looking at me then. Because I felt uncharacteristic tears burning behind my eyes. Crying wasn't really in my nature but his voice when he said that last part . . . God, he'd just sounded so . . . devastated. I didn't understand why. I just knew that I hated seeing him so upset.

"_Now _whose making assumptions?" I asked, forcing my tone to sound a little casual. "_You _don't know what I'm thinking either."  
He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me again. "Maybe not," he mumbled, staring down at his sunglasses as he toyed with them, "But I know how this will play out."

"You can see the future now too?" I quipped.  
"Sometimes," he snapped back.

Oh right . . .

"Well did you see anything about us?" I challenged.  
"Well . . .no . . ." he said.

"Then you _don't _know how this will play out," I pointed out, "Now why can't you just take a chance on me? Come on. You're the wild, spontaneous one here. Take a chance."  
He paused for a while. He didn't look at me, he stared over my shoulder. He took a sip of his coffee, fiddling idly with his sunglasses. I could tell he was thinking.

"Kiss me," I said out of nowhere. I wasn't sure exactly why the words passed my lips. I was just getting anxious waiting for his answer.  
"What?" he asked, snapping out of his haze.

"Kiss me," I repeated, building on a random thought of mine, "You said you wished you could change for me. Well, prove it. Show me how badly you wish you could change."  
"Nettie I don't know what you're playing at but -" he began.

I cut him off. "I'm not playing Will," I said, "Now kiss me."  
"Nettie -"

"Kiss me," I interrupted. And then he leaned over the small table and did just that. He pressed his lips to mine. It was different then our kiss last night. This kiss was more . . . gentle. It wasn't rough or lusty. Partially because it would've been a little raunchy for Will to kiss me like that in this quaint little coffee shop. Some people were already staring, I knew, but I tuned out their thoughts. I just focused on Will and this kiss. I leaned over the table a bit, so he didn't have to lean over quite so much.

This kiss was . . . sweet. Unlike our other two. Our first had been kind of desperate, like neither of us could take the tension anymore. And our second kiss had been drunken and maybe too passionate. This time was different. We weren't clawing at each other and I wasn't 'mouth-fucking' him with my tongue. This kiss was just innocent. It was just our lips against each other; no groping, no biting, no licking. Just two pairs of lips moving against each other in a rhythmic motion.

But it didn't last long. Hardly thirty second into it and the thoughts of the people around us were already getting agitated. Apparently it's 'inaproriate' for two people to kiss like this in a public coffee shop. Honestly, I didn't care, seeing as I didn't know these people either. But I quickly became uncomfortable with a room full of strangers staring at me. Obviously Will did too, because he pulled away just when I was about to.

I leaned back against my chair, breathing a tad bit fast.  
"Okay," Will said, "We can give it a shot."

On the inside, I was beaming. I'd known Will for four months - four fucking months! I'd had a crush on him for at least three of those months too. And now, _finally, _we were making some progress. Or at least, we were taking the first few baby steps towards progress. This was good.

"If we're going to do this, there's one thing we have to work out though," I said, hiding my excitement well, "You have to promise to be sober as often as you can, okay? I know you need your drugs. I'm not trying to change you. But I just want to have as much time with the real you as possible. Alright? Can you do that?"

"Yeah . . . I can do that," he mumbled, looking down at his coffee as he took a sip.  
I smiled down at my mocha, taking a sip from it as well. I was feeling _unusually_ happy. Will and I were _together. _He was my boyfriend . . . Just thinking it gave me tingles. I'd never thought I'd actually have a boyfriend. I'd never had anybody who I _wanted _to be my boyfriend, not before Will anyone. Will was the only person who'd ever made me feel this way. The only person who'd I'd ever felt this close to.

It was just . . . everything about him. I'd never respected someone as much as I respected Will. Sure, when he was high it was a different story, but when he was sober . . . He was smart and witty and intolerant. A little somber and occasionally grouchy. But thoughtful and observant too. He was the only person in the whole world who had ever reached out to me. He had _found _me. He had brought me out of my hateful little shell and brought me into the world. Because of him I had friends . . . a _life. _He'd rescued me from the very real possibility that I would spend the rest of my life alone and miserable. And for that, I'd always be thankful to him. No matter what happened.


	24. Little Girl

**Little Girl**

In summary, Monday was disastrous. Everyone knew about Will and I, not that he left much room for doubt, seeing as he was constantly kissing me and had his arm around my waist whenever he could. So every girl in school was thinking nasty, hateful things about me. And they weren't just thinking them either, they were saying them. Things like _"Why is he with her? She's so plain" _and _"She's probably a huge slut. I bet she'll do anything. Why else would he be with her?" _Some of it was pretty brutal actually. I wasn't used to having so many people thinking such bad things about me. I was used to people saying I was stuck up, or bitchy, or cold. But it really hurt to have everyone calling me plain or ugly and accusing me of being a big hoe.

I could tell Will didn't like the things people were thinking and saying about me either. But he kept trying to comfort me. Every time someone thought something bad about me he would hold me closer to him, and every time someone said something bad about me, he'd kiss my temple. Despite hearing those horrible things, I kind of liked the way he comforted me. I wasn't used to someone being so affectionate towards me. And I had to admit, I liked it. I was kind of surprised too. I hadn't expected Will to be so affectionate, at least not when he was sober.

We were sitting outside on the steps of the school, eating lunch. Apparently when it started getting nicer the gang liked to eat outside on the steps, the same place they often loitered about after school. Will and I were sitting on the top steps next to one another. He had an arm snaked around my waist. His arm had practically been glued there all day.

Heather was sitting on Mike's lap on the step next to us, feeding french fries to him and eating them herself occasionally. Even now that Will and I were going out, I was proud to say I felt no desire to do any of that gross mushy stuff Heather and Mike did.

On the next step was August and Juliet. August was sitting diagonally across the step, his back against the railing as he read a book, promptly ignoring everyone. He really _was _scarily like me. Juliet was on the same step, turned around with her elbows resting on the step above her as she showed Heather something in a fashion magazine.

Aaron was standing on the step below us, leaning against the railing and smoking a cigarette, talking with Will about some movie he'd seen this weekend. And finally, on the very bottom step, all by herself, was Kristy. She was sitting across the step in a similar position as August, only on the opposite side. She had her knees pulled up close to her chest and and she was glaring up at me. Her thoughts were angry and desolate, and directed at me.

_"I hate her. I hate her so much. She just shows up here and ruins my entire life. Will and I were doing great before _she _came along. _We _wouldn't been going out by now if she hadn't showed up and ruined everything," _she thought, _"Aw fuck who am I kidding . . . Of course he likes her more then me. She's smart and I'm . . . stupid. I'm so stupid. My dad was right. I really am useless and stupid. I hate myself. I hate my life." _

I almost felt a little sorry for her. But then I thought about Will. His life was ten times more horrible then Kristy's. And you don't see _h__im _being rude and bitchy and self-centered. He was nice to everybody, even people he didn't know. Actually, he was nicer to people he didn't know then he was to his own friends.

"So in the end, she poisons him by putting hemlock in his wine," Aaron went on about the movie he'd seen, "But it turns out that he knew what she was planning, so he used a needle to put poison into the wine bottle before hand. So they both drink it and he dies first because of the extra poison in his. And then while she's all smug that she killed him she takes another sip of hers and starts dying. And she realizes what he did just before she dies. And she ends up dying next to him."

"Cool," Will said.  
"Yeah, it was a pretty bitchin' movie. You should've came with Lori and I on Friday to see it. You could've brought Amunet," he said.

Kristy whipped her head to the side to glare at him. "We all know you're banging my sister Aaron," she snapped at him, "You don't have to bring it up all the time."  
"What the fuck is your problem?" he demanded, "All I did was say that we went to the movies together? Is that a crime now? She _is _my girlfriend you know."

Kristy snorted and turned away from him, continuing to glare at me. I did my best to ignore her and pressed myself tighter against Will's side, hoping his closeness would make her hateful thoughts hurt less. He knew what she was thinking of course, and his arm tightened around my waist. I had to admit, it did make me feel better. I sipped my ice tea and willed Kristy to disappear.

"Thanks man," Will said, acting as if Kristy hadn't spoken, "But I was busy Friday."  
"Yeah. Well I hope you're not busy this Friday," Aaron said, "Cause we're all gonna hang out at Hanley's on Friday. Right Mike?"

Hanley's was an old abandoned warehouse down town. The one I'd been mugged in the parking lot of. The one where the 'cool' kids and all the 'cool' kids they were friends with from other towns hung out together once a month. I'd gone to one of them a couple months ago. The one where I'd found Will making out with the redheaded Zoey in the back of her car.

"What?" Mike asked, not hearing anything before his name.  
"Hanley's on Friday," Aaron elaborated.

"Oh yeah. Right," he said, "Totally."  
"So you gonna be there?" Aaron asked Will.

"Only if Amunet wants to go," he said with a shrug. "What do you say Nettie? You wanna go?"  
"I suppose it could be fun," I said.

"Cool," Aaron said.  
"Well I'm hungry," Will said, removing his arm from my waist and standing up, "I'm going to get something to eat . . . Wait, fuck."

"What is it?" I asked.  
"I forgot my wallet at home," he muttered, sitting back down, "This sucks. I'm really hungry too. . ."

"Well then here," I said, reaching into my bag and taking out my wallet. From which, I took out a five and handed it to him.  
"You're the best," he said, pecking me on the lips before getting up and going inside.

"Well I guess now we know why he's going out with _you._"

I turned my head sharply to glare at Kristy, causing my long braid to whip over my shoulder. She glared back at me from her spot on the bottom step.  
"Care to elaborate on that Kristina," I hissed even though I knew exactly what she meant.

Hearing my hostile voice, caused the rest of the group to stop what they were doing. Heather and Juliet stopped their conversation about mascara brands, Mike stopped kissing Heather's neck, Aaron froze with his cigarette halfway to his lips, and even August looked up from his book. They all knew something was about to happen.

"Isn't it obvious?" she snapped back. "Will's only with you because you're Ms. Money Bags."  
To say I was pissed was an understatement. I'd been hearing crap like this all day, from girls just like Kristy. Girls who thought that there was no way that Will liked me for me. And I was just about sick of it.

"Why don't you come up here and say that again?" I growled, standing up.  
"Fine," she said, getting to her feet and climbing the stairs until she was standing at the top, right in front of me. "Will is only with you for your money, obviously. He's a gold digger."

"You _would _say that," I snarled, "You're so fucking _shallow _that you can't even _comprehend _that two people might have a _real _connection. You think that everyone else is obsessed with money and looks and sex as you are. Just because you're a shallow gold digging _whore, _doesn't mean that everyone else is too."

"You're such a bitch," she chocked out through her shock and hurt. Yeah, doesn't feel too nice to be on the receiving end of the personal insults, does it?  
"God knows I hate cliches but," I said with a cruel smirk, "It takes one to know one."

"You think you're all big and bad just because you're Will's girlfriend," she retorted.  
"No, I think I'm all big and bad because I _am_," I hissed.

"Conceded bitch," she growled.  
"I'll give you ten dollars if you can spell conceded for me," I snapped back.

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "You and your money. You think you're so much better then us just because you're rich. You disgust me."  
"Your feelings are mutual," I snarled.

"So what did you have to do to make Will like you?" she sneered, "Give him a blow job?"  
"Hardly. If he wanted oral sex he could just ask you," I snapped.

"Then it _must _be your money he's after," she hissed at me.  
"Did you ever consider the fact that maybe Will likes me for me?" I snarled, feeling like I was about to lose my composure, "Did it ever even cross your mind? Probably not. I mean, it's not like you would know what I'm talking about. There's no way a guy has ever liked you for you. Considering the fact that you're a nasty, vindictive, evil, shallow _cunt._"

She reached out and slapped me across the face, hard, causing my glasses to fly off my face. She hadn't even thought about it. And I didn't think either when I swung out and punched her square in the jaw. She stumbled back and her back slammed into the metal railing.

"That's for hitting me in the back of the head with a phone on my first day bitch," I snarled.  
"You fucking whore!" she exclaimed, touching her flaming red jaw. She came back at me and I tried to move out of the way, but I lost my footing, and ended up tumbling down the concrete steps.

Heather screamed and I heard a cracking sound that I desperately hoped wasn't my skull as I tumbled down the steps. When I reached the bottom everything hurt. My back especially. I moaned and rolled over onto my back so I could at least see, even if it hurt like hell. I felt dizzy and disoriented as I tried to sit up. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked up at the steps, blinking to clear away the spots in my vision. At the top stood Kristy, staring at me in mortification and shock. Everyone else just looked shocked. Aaron had dropped his cigarette.

Everyone was frozen in place and the reason was obvious. Standing at the top of the stairs was Will, looking angrier then I had ever seen him. He had dropped the container of fries he'd been holding. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing as he stared at me.

"What _happened?_" he shouted, louder then I'd ever heard him, at nobody in particular. When nobody answered him, he got even angrier. The glass bottle of ice tea that Juliet was holding suddenly exploded, spraying glass and ice tea. Juliet and Heather screamed. August cursed as ice tea stained the pages of his book. Juliet jumped to her feet in alarm but then froze. Nobody else moved or spoke.

"Did you do this?" Will shouted as he whirled around to face Kristy.  
I'd never seen him so angry. At anyone. Sometimes Will glared and occasionally he snapped at people. But he never, ever raised his voice at anybody.

"It-it was an accident. I-I didn't mean to," Kristy stammered out, putting up her hands like she thought he was going to hit her. He looked like he wanted to.  
"You don't _ever _touch her! Do you understand me?" he screamed at her, "Ever! If you ever lay a hand on her again I swear to God I'll . . ."

"I'm sorry Will," she sobbed as she began to cry, "I didn't mean to! It was an accident! I swear! I'm sorry!"  
"I don't want to fucking hear it Kristy," he snarled loudly.

"Will I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me," she cried, "I didn't mean to hurt her!"  
"I said I didn't want to hear it!" he shouted louder, lifting his hand like he was going to hit her. She cowered against the railing, bracing herself. But Will didn't hit her. He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and let his hand drop to his side as he turned away from her and came down the steps.

"Will!" Kristy cried mournfully, mascara running down her cheeks.  
"Don't even talk to me," he snapped without looking back at her. He reached the bottom of the stairs and knelt next to me. He brushed his fingers against my forehead.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a soft, gentle voice. The polar opposite of the way it had been five seconds ago.  
"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, sitting up a little more, "Just bruised."

"Are you sure? Did you hit your head?" he asked.  
I thought about it for a minute. I was dizzy from the tumbling but no, I didn't think I'd hit my head. "No. I don't think so," I said and tried to get up.

"Let me help you," he said and proceeded to help me get to my feet. I swayed a little from the vertigo and Will grabbed my forearms to keep me steady. I regained my balance and watched Will as he gave me a visual examination. I could tell by the way that his eyes moved that he was searching for injuries.

"I'm okay," I promised him. I was sore as hell from falling down concrete steps and landing on the sidewalk but I really was okay.  
"I'm taking you home," he said firmly. "Aaron, give me her bag . . . Please."

Aaron grabbed my bag from the top step and came down the stairs to hand it to Will. Aaron's thoughts were a jumble of shock. He couldn't believe that Kristy had practically pushed me down the stairs. And he couldn't believe how pissed Will had been. He'd known Will for four years and he'd never seen him that mad.

"Here you go man," he said before backing away to lean against the railing.  
"Thanks. Mike, would you mind holding on to my bag for me?" he asked, "Just leave it in the van."

"No problem man," Mike said. He'd also never seen Will that mad before. Never heard him scream at someone like he screamed at Kristy.  
"We're good to go then," Will said, slinging my bag over his shoulder.

"Wait - my glasses," I said, realizing that that was why things seemed so unclear.  
"Here they are," Heather said in a small voice as she descended the stairs. My broken glasses in her hands. They were broken right down the middle. Well that explained the cracking noise I'd heard.

"Sorry," she said meekly as she handed them to me. Which made me notice that there was blood on my hands.  
"Don't be," Will said immediately, his eyes wandering upwards to glare at Kristy, "It wasn't _your _fault."

"Will," Kristy said mournfully from her top step, looking down at us. She was still crying, mascara running down her cheeks.  
"Stay away from me," Will said coldly as he began to lead me away and towards the parking lot.

We were silent as we walked. I didn't know what to say and Will didn't seem like he was in the mood to talk. When we reached my car he knowingly extracted my keys from the pouch of my bag.  
"I'm driving," he said.

"Alright," I consented, only because I didn't feel up for driving. He unlocked the car and I got in the passenger's seat. He climbed in the driver's seat, throwing my bag in the back and slamming his door shut. He started the car and backed out. It wasn't until we left the school complex that he spoke.

"Which way to your house?" he asked. So I gave him directions. It was the only conversation. Needless to say, it was quite awkward. For me at least. Will didn't seem to mind. Finally we came upon my house. I'd never been so happy to be home.

"Nice place," he commented.  
"My mom's a lawyer," I said with a shrug. I reached up to click the little button on the mirror that opened the garage. It squealed open and Will parked my Aspen in it's usual spot. My mom's spot was empty.

He got out of the car immediately and came around to my side. I had just gotten my door opened and he actually helped me out of the truck. As if I was too weak and feminine to jump out of my own truck. But I wasn't in the mood to argue. So I let him grab me by the waist and lift me out of the car.

He closed my door for me and led me inside. Lila came up to us, whimpering and swishing her tail back and forth anxiously.  
"This is Lila," I told him as I placed my broken glasses on the counter. My mom was going to be pissed.

He patted her head vaguely. "Where's the bathroom?" he asked.  
"We can use the one upstairs," I said. He led me upstairs and into the bathroom that I pointed out to him. I gaped when I saw myself in the mirror.

My hair was a mess, starting to fall out of it's braid. My hands had blood on them, but I already knew that. I had a little cut on my face and it was bleeding. There was blood on my baby blue blouse but I wasn't sure where it had come from. God, I looked awful.

Will gingerly took both my hands in his and began to wash them with soap and water in the sink. It felt weird but nice. Kind of reminding me of the way my mom used to force me to wash my hands before dinner when I was little. Once my hands were clean of blood, Will dried them off with a towel.

"Shirt off," he commanded as he started going through the drawers and cabinets.  
"Will -" I began.

"C'mon Nettie," he said, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic, "Don't be difficult for once. Please. I'm just trying to help."  
"Fine," I sighed. I began to unbutton my blouse as Will located a rag. He began to soak it in the antiseptic.

I slipped my blouse off and let it fall to the floor, inhaling sharply at how much that motion hurt. Looking in the mirror now, I could see why. There were scratches all over my arms and some on my stomach, even one on the top of one of my boobs. Some of the cuts were bleeding and some weren't.

"Ohh," Will said, looking at my back.  
"That bad?" I asked. I could only imagine. My arms hadn't even really hurt and they were covered in scratches. My back hurt like hell, I could only imagine what it looked like.

"Let's just say you're going to have a lot of bruises," he mumbled as he stood behind me, "Now just hold still." He placed the rag against my back and I winced and gasped sharply.  
"I thought I told you to hold still," he muttered.

"That fucking hurts!" I exclaimed.  
"Well falling down stairs isn't supposed to be pleasant," he said, "Now just hold still and relax. It'll go faster that way."

So I did my best not to squirm as he rubbed the antiseptic all over my back. He then moved to my front and it felt really weird having him rub me with a rag while I was looking right at him. He rubbed it on my stomach and that actually kind of tickled, once I got past the burning. He did my arms and even did the little scratch on my boob, although he did that one really quickly.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when he suddenly crouched down in front of me.

"What the fuck are you doing!" I exclaimed.  
"Nettie, relax," he said, "You have scratches on your legs too."

That's when I remembered that I was wearing a soft short black skirt. Of course I'd gotten scratches on my legs. It was extremely awkward, for me at least, having him crouched down in front of me, rubbing antiseptic all over my legs. Occasionally he would grab my leg to hold it in place and it made my body get all hot for reasons I didn't want to think about.

"All done," he said, getting up, "Why don't you go put something more comfortable on and I'll meet you down stairs."  
"Um okay," I mumbled, in a bit of a daze, as I left the bathroom and went into my room.

I put on a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, not wanting to embarass myself further by putting on my snoopy pajama pants. I then unbraided my hair, which took forever, and combed it out to get out any knots. I was then forced to put my contacts in. I hated wearing contacts. They burned my eyes. But I still needed to see, since my glasses were broken.

I went downstairs to find Will sitting on my couch, in my living room, flipping through channels on the TV. Lila sat on the floor in front of him, staring at him curiously. They both looked up when I walked in the room. Will smiled at faintly me. I tried to smile back. I was feeling pretty stressed out after the day I'd had.

"Come. Sit down," he urged. I went over to him and he grabbed me and pulled me down to sit on his lap. I squealed, hating the sound as I made it.  
"Will!" I shrieked as I tried to get up, "What are you doing?"

"Just trying to get you to relax," he said, his arms trapping me as he laid down across the couch, dragging me with him. So now we were both laying down across the couch horizontally. He was behind me and had his arms around me as I forced myself to relax against his body. I was surprised by how easy it was. It just felt . . . right.

"Now, what does my beautiful girlfriend want to watch?" he asked, grabbing the remote from where he'd placed it on the coffee table.  
"You've certainly fallen into this boyfriend role quite nicely," I mumbled, "Being all cuddly."

"Well if I'm going to be your boyfriend, I might as well do it thoroughly," he said, "Now, what do you want to watch?"  
"Pay per view," I suggested. He went through all the movies and ended up getting _Sherlock Holmes, _per my request. I hadn't wanted to watch a romance or a horror. Plus I loved this movie.

While the mandatory commercials started, the ones they made you watch even though it was fucking pay per view, I said, "So . . . Today with Kristy."  
He tightened his arms around me. "Can we not talk about that?" he asked.

"I think we should," I said. "You completely lost your mind back there . . . I thought you were going to hit her."  
"I would never do that," he muttered, "I was just really mad. I couldn't believe she pushed you down the stairs."

"She didn't really push me," I said, "I lost my footing."  
"Yeah, but she did hit you. And I won't stand for that," he said.

"I've never seen you this mad," I mumbled, "And none of your friends have either."  
"Kristy crossed the line today," he said simply, "She shouldn't of hit you. She shouldn't have let you get hurt."

"You make me feel like a little girl," I mumbled.  
"You are a little girl," he said, kissing my hair, "My little girl."

I felt myself getting all tingly inside. It was so weird for me . . . having someone look out for me like that. Having someone scream at someone like that for me. Having someone be that protective of me. I wasn't used to that. I never had any siblings or friends to look out for me. It felt . . . nice. Knowing that someone cared about me that much. Seeing as nobody else ever had.

* * *

**Check out the pics for this story on my profile. I'd also like to say thank you for all the reviews. I know I don't do a lot of AN's. Actually, I haven't done any for this story before. I just don't like disturbing the flow of the story. But I decided it was about time I did. **

**Anyway, check out the pictures on my profile and keep reviewing. **


	25. Vulnerable Girl

**Vulnerable Girl**

I first started seeing them the upcoming Thursday. It was around six o'clock in the evening and I was pulling into my garage. I saw something dark move in my mirror and I whipped my head around to see that nothing was there. I brushed it off and parked the car completely. I killed the engine and hit the little button to close the garage door. The rusty gears on the door were groaning and screeching as I hopped from my car, my bag on my shoulder. I shut the door behind me and clutched the cool keys in my hand. And then I saw it again. Just a dark shadow - like a black bat fluttering through the edges of my vision. I whipped around again to see that nothing was there, at least not anything that shouldn't be there.

I shook my head back and forth to clear it. I was just hungry. I was seeing things. Still, despite my self-reassurances, I was still jumpy. I kept looking over my shoulder as I hastily made my way to the door. I stepped inside the dark house, comforted by the feel of Lila's soft nose against my leg and the sound of her happy whimpering. I patted her head as I flipped the kitchen light on and locked the garage door behind me out of paranoia. I sighed, trying to relax. The only sound was of my boots on the hardwood floor and Lila's whimpering.

As I was placing my keys on the counter I noticed a dim light coming from the living room, a faint orange glow. Had my mom left the TV on? Possibly. She might have been a highly organized person, but she was so preoccupied by work that it was easy for little things to slip from her mind. Like turning off the TV, or letting the dog out, or making me dinner. Little trivial things like that.

I flipped on the lights as I stepped into the living room, screamed. Sitting in the middle of the floor on a white sheet was Will, surrounded by orange candles. In front of him was what appeared to be containers of fast food of some kind. It certainly smelled like fast food. Laying across one of the containers was a single red rose. He even had a bottle of wine, but no glasses. At first he'd been smiling but when I screamed, he began to howl with laughter.

I covered my mouth with my hand and dropped my purse in surprise. My heart was beating a mile a minute and my breathing was accelerated. I tried to get a handle on myself and my breathing while Will continued to laugh his head off. He'd fallen back onto the sheet, on his back, shaking with laughter. He clutched his stomach and laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

"You jerk!" I exclaimed once I'd calmed a bit, "You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"  
"Oh God . . ." he panted out between his fits of laughter, "Oh God can't breath . . . Can't breath."

"This isn't funny!" I said, hands on my hips in annoyance. He'd nearly scared me half to death!  
"I . . . beg . . . to differ," he gasped out, still laughing.

Despite my annoyance, his laughter was contagious and I had to work to keep from my smiling. It wasn't that hard. Once I remembered how he'd nearly given me a _heart attack_, it was easy to keep a straight face. But it also made it harder not to lunge across the room and strangle him.

Finally, after a minute of me staring at him disapprovingly with my hands on my hips, his laughter quieted. He was still chuckling a bit, but he wasn't rolling on the floor laughing anymore. He sat up, smiling at me, as he caught his breath. I continued to stare at him angrily.

"Oh c'mon Net," he said, sensing my annoyance, "Don't be mad."  
I stared back at him. I wasn't used to people scaring me or sneaking up on me. It wasn't something that happened to me often . . . If it had ever even happened to me before at all.

"Oh come here you," he said, holding his arms out to me. Well, I was just a sucker for that, now wasn't I. So I went over to him and sat down on his lap on the floor. But I kept my arms crossed over my chest to make it clear that he was in no way forgiven.

"I'm sorry Nettie," he apologized, twirling a loose strand of my hair around his finger and kissing my cheek, "I didn't mean to scare you."  
"Well, you did," I snapped as forcefully as I could managed. I was already starting to melt by his apology.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, kissing my temple, "I just wanted to surprise you."  
"Well you succeeded," I mumbled, my anger completely gone. Just like that. Only Will could calm me down so fast. Of course, he was usually the one who got me all worked up in the first place.

"So . . . Are you still mad?" he asked.  
I sighed. "No, I'm not mad."

He beamed. "Good. Because this picnic wouldn't be any fun if you were."  
"So that's what this is," I mumbled.

"Duh. What did you think it was?" he asked. "Now, get off my lap. I can't eat if you're sitting on me."  
I rolled my eyes at him and got off his lap to sit next to him. I examined the food containers.

"McDonald's and wine," I said, "Wow. Real classy Will."  
"Hey. Their fries are fucking amazing and you know it," he said, taking a handful of fries from the container next to him.

"Is is mine?" I asked, picking up the square box with the rose on it.  
"Hence the rose," he said, eating some fries and moaning.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked, eyeing him weirdly as I placed the rose on the ground and opened my food container to reveal a hamburger.  
"These fries are orgasmic," he told me as he took another handful.

"Well then I think that I would like to try these 'orgasmic' fries," I said.  
"Wait," he said, "Are you trying to tell me that you've _never _had McDonald's french fries?"

"Nope," I said, "I've never even been to McDonald's. My mom hates fast food."  
Will stared at me like I'd just told him that I was really a man. "You've _never _had McDonald's?" he gaped.

"Nope," I repeated.  
"Oh God. Then you've never lived," he said, handing me another container of fries, "Now eat."

I took the container from him and rolled my eyes as I took a fry from it. It smelled good but it felt kind of greasy against my fingers.  
"Are you going to conduct a field study on it or eat it?" Will demanded.

"I'm eating it, I'm eating it," I muttered before taking a bite. I was shocked by how good it tasted. There were probably a dozen calories in that one fry alone but damn, it was good.  
"Well?" Will prompted.

"It's good," I said, grabbing some more fries.  
He smiled. "Aren't you glad you have me around?" he asked as he grabbed the bottle of wine, "Or else you'd be missing out on all these life experiences."

"Yeah. You turned me on to drinking and fast food," I muttered, "You're such a good role model Will."  
"I know right," he said as the cork suddenly popped out of the wine without him even touching it. He smirked at me. "Cool right?"

"How did you do that?" I wondered.  
He pointed at his forehead. "The same way I got into your locked house."

Oh right. Telekinesis. I had to learn how to do that . . .

"I didn't think about that . . ." I mumbled as I took a bite of my burger. If it was anybody other then Will who had the power to break into my house whenever they wanted, I would've been unsettled.  
"Picking locks with my mind is a speciality of mine," he said as he drank wine straight from the bottle before handing it to me.

I stared at it for a long moment. I couldn't get drunk now. This was my house! What if my mother came home. She'd kill me . . . Well after she recovered from her heart attack. She'd be bound to be surprised if she found _me _of all people, drunk and making out with a hot guy.

"What's wrong?" Will asked.  
"I can't get drunk now," I told him.

"Why not? You said you're mother wouldn't be home until late . . ." he trailed off, seeming confused.  
"I know, I know. But . . . This isn't really the kind of person I am. Friday . . . That was more of a one time thing. I can't get drunk on a regular basis," I told him.

He was quiet for a minute before smiling at me. "You know, I'm not sure if I find your conservative nature annoying or adorable . . ."  
"Well let me know when you've sorted that out," I said, getting up and going into the kitchen. I grabbed myself a soda and returned to the living room to find that Will had downed about three quarters of the wine.

"Easy there," I advised, sitting back down in front of my food as I cracked open my soda.  
"Hey. I'm drinking for two now," he said.

"Oh my God you're pregnant!" I said with mock alarm.  
He laughed and shoved my shoulder playfully. "Yeah. You're the father," he told me.

I laughed some more and took another bite of my burger. Will took a bite of his and then another swig of his wine.  
"Seriously though," I said, "Slow down there."

"Oh c'mon Nettie," he whined, "I haven't gone to school high all week. Don't I deserve a little treat?"  
I sighed. He was right. What he was doing might be unhealthy but he really was improving, sad as that was. "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to end up completely drunk and I'm going to have to babysit you?"

"Relax Net," he said, putting the wine down for a moment, "It takes more then one bottle of cheap wine to get me trashed."  
"Whatever you say Will . . ." I mumbled patronizingly, not believing that. That was a _big _bottle.

We were quite for a few minutes while we ate and drink. It didn't feel awkward actually. In this time I finished almost all of my fries and about half of my burger. Will had only eaten about half of his food, but he'd also drank almost half of the bottle of wine. He didn't seem very drunk, but I noticed that there was a pinkish flush to his pale cheeks. We ate for a little while more, until we were both completely finished. Well, Will still had a little less then half of a bottle of wine left.

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie?" he asked suddenly.  
"Sure. We can have a little movie night," I said, liking the idea, "I'll go get some pillows and stuff. Stay here, alright?" I didn't need him hurting himself. He didn't seem too intoxicated but I liked to be careful.

I went upstairs and into the linen closet. I grabbed a big blanket and two pillows before coming back downstairs to find Will sitting on the floor with a remote in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. He was flipping through movies on pay per view.

"What do ya wanna watch?" he asked, his words slurring a little already.  
"You pick this time," I said as I threw the blankets and pillows on the couch for a minute.

He continued to flip through channels while I cleaned up. I threw away all the food and blew out all the candles, just in case. Then I grabbed the two pillows and propped them up in front of the couch. That way, we could continued our little picnic by watching the movie on the floor.

Will noticed what I was doing and mumbled, "Is like a slumber party . . ."  
I could tell by the way he was talking that he was getting a little drunk. I looked over at the bottle he held. There was only about a quarter of it left.

"Find a movie yet?" I asked as I fluffed up the pillows.  
"How 'bout . . . _Meet The Parents_. Ohhhhh I lurve this movie," he said, his words slurring even more then before.

"Okay. But it," I said.  
"Yeahhhh . . Buyin' the movie. Is a like magic . . .You just click the button and _poof_, you have the movie," he said, his words slurring even more, "Who even needs video stores any more? We's gots pay per view now bitches . . ."

"Okay, I think that's enough wine for you," I decided, going over to him and snatching the bottle out of his hand. There was hardly left anyway.  
"Ehhh . . . Buzz kill," he muttered as I walked away.

"Get comfy," was all I told him as I went into the kitchen. I poured the little last bit of wine down the drain before placing it in the recycling bin. It wasn't like my mom ever went in there anyway. Taking out the garbage and recycling was _my _job. Just like a lot of other tasks my mom couldn't be bothered with.

I went back into the living room to find Will laying on the white sheet on the floor, leaning up against the front of the couch, using the pillow I'd put there. I smiled and turned the light off, the glow of the TV the only light now. Will looked up at me but didn't say anything as I grabbed the blanket off the couch and laid down next to him on the floor, pulling the blanket over the two of us. The movie began and we watched, sitting so close that our bodies were touching. Will wasn't _too _drunk. He laughed a little more then necessary and occasionally made comments that didn't make sense, but I'd seen him acting worse.

When the movie was over we hardly moved at all as I bought _Meet The Fockers. _Will was getting drowsy I could tell, but I didn't feel that tired considering it was only about nine. About halfway through the movie, Will began to drift off. I looked over at him and saw that he was out cold, his head lolled to the side, partially resting on my shoulder. I smiled and ran my fingers through his colorful hair a few times.

I knew that we had school in the morning, and that my mom would be home soon, and that I should probably drive Will home. But I didn't really care at the moment. When _Meet The Fockers _ended, I bought _Easy A. _Will was still asleep but I didn't mind. I just liked having his company. It was nice. Not being so alone. I was always alone in this house. My mother was working all the time, leaving me alone with the dog. It was nice to not be so alone.

Somewhere during _Easy A _though, I began to drift. The movie was amusing but it was almost midnight. I would've been worried about my mother but this was typical for her. She would go out to dinner with a client, then drinks with colleagues. Same old story I'd heard a million times. I stopped worrying years ago. So now, I just let my head rest against Will's and let my eyes close.

. . . . . . .

I awoke to the _pleasant _sound of my mother's bellowing. It took me about a second to realize what was going on. My mother was standing in front of me, where I lay on the living room floor. . .with Will. She didn't look particularly pleased and I understood why, of course, since I could read her mind. She was seeing me asleep in a little makeshift bed next to some random guy with candles all around us. At least I'd disposed of the wine or I'd _really _be dead.

"Amunet Dendera Lamorte!" she screeched, "What is going on here? Who is _this_?"  
"Mom, relax," I said, rolling my eyes as I stretched and sat up all the way.

"You do not tell me to relax young lady!" she exclaimed, hands on her hips.  
"Uh yes I do," I snapped as I got to my feet, "On occasions like this one when you need to _relax_."

I looked back down at Will. He was just starting to wake up, looking confused. He was rubbing his eyes blearily as he sat up a little.  
"Amunet you better start explaining," my mother said, "Starting with who _he _is."

I matched her stance by crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at her icily. She may be my mother but _nobody _intimidates and _absolutely nobody _can out glare me. _"He_," I hissed, "Is my boyfriend."  
"Excuse me, did you say _boyfriend_?" she demanded, indignant.

"Yes, I did," I sneered, "This is my boyfriend, Will."  
She looked at him as he got to his feet. He rubbed his eyes groggily but he seemed aware of what was going on, just unable to concentrate.

I clenched my fists at her thoughts. _"_This_boy is her boyfriend? Look at him! Sure he's got a pretty face but look at that hair! His mother let him do that? What kind of dysfunctional family does _he _come from? I bet his own mother doesn't even know where he is right now, at one o'clock in the morning . . ."_

"Is it windy up there mom?" I snarled icily.  
"Up where?" she asked, too confused to be angry for a minute.

"On your high horse," I snapped, "Which I suggest you get down from, seeing as you're being a huge hypocrite. I wouldn't be belitting someone else's parenting skills if I were _you._"  
"What are you implying Amunet?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at me.

"I'm not 'implying' anything. I'm _plainly stating_ that you're a bad mother," I growled.  
"Amunet!" she exclaimed in shock.

"Don't deny it mother," I said coldly, turning away from her, "You're my friend, not my mother. A mother cooks dinner for her daughter, and remembers to pick her up from school, and encourages her to try new things. She doesn't throw a credit card at her and assume she can take care of herself. I love you mom . . . But don't come home at _one o'clock_ in the morning on a _Thursday_ and _lecture me_about falling alseep watching movies with my boyfriend. Who, by the way, takes better care of me then you _ever _did."

My mother stared at me. She wasn't exactly 'shocked' per say. She of all people knew how cold, and blunt, and hurtful I could be. She was surprised by how _right _I was (I can't imagine why, I'm always right after all.) She thought it over in her head for a moment, realizing just how right I was. I didn't get my hopes up though. Even if she realized how wrong she was, she wasn't going to change.

"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to drive my _boyfriend _home," I growled.  
She didn't say anything. Just continued to stare at me and think.

"C'mon Will," I said, grabbing his hand while keeping my eyes locked on her, "Let's go."  
"Alright . . . " Will spoke for the first time, "Well um I'd say it was nice to meet you Ms. Lamorte, but actually, it was extremely awkward. So . . . bye."

I led him towards the door and grabbed my keys on the way. I led him into the garage and got into the driver's seat of the Aspen without a word. Will go in the passenger seat silently and I began driving. We were both quiet for a short while. I was boiling and Will still seemed a little out of it, but he came to eventually.

"Are you okay?" he asked.  
"Yeah . . ." I mumbled, "Yeah I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked, "Because you don't look fine."  
"It's just that . . ." I began and then stopped.

_"It's just that all my life I've been alone. I've never had friends or siblings. Just my mom. And I hardly even had her," _I thought _"She was always working, just like she does now. I'm her daughter but it's like she's _married _to her job. She only ever cares about work. Before she became an established lawyer she was always moving us around, seeking new career advancements. I never really minded moving. I didn't have any friends to root me to one place, besides, every house we lived in was the same. Too big, too cold, too fancy. The older I got, the more my mother left me alone. I hardly see her at all anymore. I understood why my dad left her. Because even when she's not a work, her _mind_ is still on work. Work is her whole world. I'm her only daughter, her only family . . . _I'm _supposed to be her whole world. But I'm not. I'm not even apart of it. She eats, breathes, and lives work. . . I need her here but she's always so far away."_

Those were the words I needed so desperately to say, but never would. Not even to Will. I felt closer to him then anybody else in the entire world, which was easy considering he was the only person I was really close to anymore. But still, I wouldn't say these words to him. Feeling those things was one thing, but if I said them . . . It would make them real. It would mean that I was invincible. It would make me, Amunet the Ice Queen, vulnerable.

"Nothing," I sighed, "I'm fine."


	26. Active Girl

**Active Girl**

I thought I might explode with nervousness and fear as I parked in front of Will's house Monday morning. He'd been at his dad's this weekend and I hadn't seen him at all. I'd talked to him on Saturday but he hadn't answered my texts yesterday at all. I'd been a total wreck, worried sick about him. I'd had waking nightmares of what they could be doing to him there. Each one made me psychically ill. I kept thinking I was going to throw up.

I got out of the car and quickly made my way to the front door. I pounded on it several times, trying to force myself to remain calm as I nervously twisted a loose strand of black hair around my finger while I waited. Finally the door opened to reveal Bindy. She was dressed in tiny lace pink shorts and a white tank top, her blonde hair falling freely. She seemed happy to see me but in the back of her mind annoyance was clear. Now, that sent me into a mental frenzy of course. What if Bindy was distressed because Will had come home hurt last night?

"Amunet," she drawled, smiling at me, "It's been so long! It's no nice to see ya. I hear Will and ya are a couple now. Y'all gotta be the best damn thing that's ever happened to that kid."  
Her thoughts swirled lightly on how much Will had improved since meeting me - doing drugs less, helping out at home more, doing better in school. I would've been delighted by the affect I was having "on Will, only I was a little too busy panicking still.

"Well thank you Bindy," I said, making sure to sound calm and casual, "It's nice to see you too."  
"Y'all gotta promise to come 'round here more often," she told me.

"I can do that. How about I start driving Will to school from now," I suggested, liking the idea. That was the my excuse for being here today. I'd told Will on Friday that I would pick him up for school today. That way, I wouldn't have to wait until school to see if he was okay.  
"Well that'd be lovely," she said, "Give ya and me a chance to talk sometimes."

"Sure. So, where's Will?" I asked, too anxious to wait any longer.  
Her thoughts darkened and her smile turned sour. "Oh he's here," she said and then called louder, "Will! Get in here!"

"Wait 'til ya see what his damn father did . . ." she said to me, her thoughts completely focused on her anger at her ex-husband, thinking over all the other times he'd fucked up. Unfortunately, there was nothing about what he'd done _this time_. I was about to become very spastic. I felt tempted to shove Bindy to the floor and run inside to Will.

"I'm coming!" Will shouted back and I heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. They tapped loudly against the floor ominously. I braced myself for the worst, expecting him to walk in covered in blood and bruises with two black eyes again. He walked in . . .

And he was holding a kitten.

There wasn't a scratch on him that I could see. He looked perfectly fine, dressed in clean jeans with a hole in the knee and his grey and black striped hoodie. His multicolored hair fell into his clear grey eyes, the bruises around them almost completely gone, only faint shadows remaining. He had a stunning smile painted on his face and in his hands he held a tiny, fluffy, grey tabby cat. A little kitten.

"Is that a cat?" I demanded, shocked with relief.  
"Yep," Will enthused, seeming very excited and more happy then I'd ever seen him sober. "Isn't she _adorable_?" He snuggled the little kitten against his cheek and it purred.

Bindy rolled her eyes at him. "His prick father bought him a damn cat," she muttered, "Bastard didn't even check with me to make sure it was okay. Just went out and bought the kid a cat. And now I'm stuck with the damn thing because _this one_ is in love with it."

"How can you not love this face?" he demanded, holding the kitten in front of his mother's face.  
"Billy get that damn thing out of my face!" she exclaimed, backing away and making 'shoo' hand gestures.

"My baby is _not _a thing," he said, seeming offended and holding the kitten closer to him.  
Bindy rolled her eyes and looked at me meaningfully. "See what I mean," she said, "Anyway, I have to go get ready for work. It was nice to see you Amunet. Will, be good today."

"Bye Mom," he said as she left the room and then turned to me. "You wanna hold her?"  
"Ummmm . . ." I trailed off, unsure, "I'm not really a cat person."

"Oh come on. You'll love her," he urged as he handed me the kitten and pecked me 'hello' on the lips before stepping back. I held the little kitten against my shoulder, petting her soft fur.  
"She _is_ cute," I relented, "What's her name?"

"I don't know," he said with a hapless sigh, "There are so many names that suit her. I can't pick just one."  
"Well what names did you have in mind?" I wondered, closing the door behind me with my foot, giving in to my annoyance at the draft.

"Well there's Lucy, Sophie, Cleo, Gracie, Molly, Chloe . . . They all suit her so well though," he said, sounding forlorn.  
"I like Lucy," I told him.

"It's not as simple as that Nettie," he said with a roll of his eyes, "I have to give this some serious thought you know. What I decide will affect her for the _rest of her life."  
_"Are you high right now?" I asked suspiciously as I stroked the kitten.

"No. But I might've had a little breakfast wine," he said, grinning like a guilty little kid. "Just a little."  
I sighed and shook my head at him. There was no living with him . . . He was always getting into something he shouldn't.

I considered nagging him for getting drunk at _seven o'clock in the morning_. But decided not to. If he was drunk, he wouldn't listen. Hell, if he was sober, he wouldn't listen. I was trying to come up with a subject change but one ended up coming to me. The nameless kitten began to squirm in my arms, looking at Will and pawing the air in his direction. "I think somebody misses her Daddy," I teased, going over to Will and handing the struggling kitten to him.

"Awww did you miss me baby?" he asked her, lifting her to his face and touching his nose to her's.  
"So what made your dad decide to get you a kitten?" I wondered.

He shrugged. "I dunno," he said innocently, "Cause he loves me."  
Mhm. Sure he did. Because people who love their children _always_ abuse them.

"No seriously Will," I said, "Why? It's not your birthday or anything, is it?" I really hoped not. I'd feel really stupid if I somehow forgot his birthday.  
"Nope," he said, still nuzzling his kitten's nose.

"Well that's strange . . ." I mumbled, unconvinced.  
"Mhm," he mumbled, still playing with his kitten. But then she began to bat at his face with her paw. We both laughed as she tapped his cheek with her little feet, but then she swatted at his overgrown bangs, pushing a piece of them a little bit to the side, revealing a dark purple color for just a second.

I halted in my laughter but Will was still laughing. Until he realized I wasn't laughing any more. "What's a matter Nettie?" he asked, lowering the kitten and holding her to his chest.  
"What's that on your forehead?" I demanded, getting closer to him, "Is that a bruise?"

Self consciously he reached up to fix his bangs, to cover his forehead more completely. "No," he lied.  
"You liar," I accused, "Let me see." I went up to him and quickly lifted his bangs before he could stop me. Above his right eye was a stitched up wound with dark bruising all around it.

I only saw it for a second before he pushed my hand away and quickly adjusted his bangs to cover the injury with one hand.  
"Will," I said, my voice a low growl, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, nothing," he mumbled automatically.  
"Remember that I know about your dad Will," I warned.

"Well then you already know the answer then, don't you?" his words slurred a bit but he didn't sound very drunk just then, at least not happy drunk. The anger seemed to sober him up a bit.  
"Will," I sighed mournfully, covering my eyes with my hand in exasperation.

"Nettie, don't . . ." he said.  
"Is that why he got you the kitten?" I demanded, looking at him, "To make up for beating you up?"

"Sorta," he mumbled, his eyes on the kitten as he stroked her fur, "It was a misunderstandin . . . My step brother Milo broke a lamp and my dad thought I did it. So when I told him I didn't do it he thought I was lying and he got really mad . . . . . . . But um after we got back from the emergency room Milo's girlfriend Melissa told my dad that Milo did it because she felt bad for me. And then my dad felt bad for punishing me when I didn't deserve it . . . . So he got me a kitten!"

He told that whole story in a matter-of-fact way; like it was something he was almost indiffernent too. And then at the end he got all excited again.  
"So let me make sure I have this right," I said, "To make up for putting you in the hospital, your dad bought you a kitten?"

"Yep," Will said, his eyes on his kitten.  
"And you don't see anything _wrong_ with that?" I demanded.

"Nope," he said easily, still petting his kitten.  
"You know, an old client of my mom's was abused by her husband," I told him, "He was extremely violent and whenever he was mad he would beat her. But afterwards, he always felt bad and would go buy her a present. My mom called it Abusers' Compensation. It's when someone abuses someone they're close to and feels bad about it afterwards, but instead of stopping, they just give them things to make up for it."

"Nice story," he commented, stroking his kitten, "A little boring though. Could've used some more action."  
"Will, don't you _get it_? I demanded "That's exactly what your dad is doing to you."

"No it's not," he denied, "He only got my the kitten because he hadn't meant to hurt me that time. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go put my new kitten into my room for the day so Janie doesn't hurt her while I'm gone." He turned on his heel and disappeared into the living room, I followed quickly after him.

"Will," I exclaimed in frustration as I followed him. Janie, their Rottweiler, barked at us from her spot on the couch. Only this time she wasn't snarling at me, she was snarling at Will's kitten.  
"Shut up!" Will snapped.

I recoiled and stopped in my tracks. I couldn't believe he'd said that. He turned around when he heard me stop and rolled his eyes. "Not you Nettie, the dog," he said.  
"Oh," I said, relieved. He started walking again and I followed as he opened the door to his room and placed his kitten on the floor.

"Go play baby," he said before closing the door, "I'll see you when I get back."  
"Will," I said when he turned back around.

"Nettie," he warned, slurring his words a bit again, "Don't start this, 'ight? Stop trying to get involved. Let's just go to school, 'kay?"  
"Okay," I relented with a sigh.

"Good," he said, picking his bag off the floor and wrapping an arm around me. I was silent as we walked to the car together, Will only stumbling once. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to lie. I'd told him we could just go to school, not that I wouldn't get involved.

I had to do something about this.

* * *

**Sorry it took me longer then usual to write this . . . The mental juices just weren't flowing. I think they're back though. (Thank God) Anyway, I'd like to thank Deliciously Dark for her helpful ideas that pushed me in the right direction. (even though they may SEEM unrelated to the end product.) I'd also like to say that I'm going to try and update my other stories, such as Beware Of Vampire and Coveted Blood more often. Anyone with any ideas is URGED to PM me. Thank you and thanks for all the awesome reviews. **

**Also, what do you think Will's kitten should be named?**


	27. Desirable Girl

**Desirable Girl**

The hallways were empty and as quiet as a grave the next night. The fluorescent lights ominous flickering and my heels clicking lonely against the linoleum floors added to the creepy factor. I knew I was alone as I made my way to the guidance office. The door was locked, the little window showing that it was dark and empty inside. I closed my eyes and prayed that the lessons on telekinesis Will had given me were worth it. I visualized what the inside of the lock would look like, imagining the tumblers moving. It took me a good ten minutes, but finally, there was a clicking noise - signaling that it had worked.

"Yes," I said quietly under my breath and turned the knob of the now unlocked door. I stepped inside and flicked the light on. I'd never been in here before, but I'd obviously known what it looked like. I stepped inside, my footsteps muted by the thick carpeting. I placed my _Chanel_ tote bag on the desk before sitting down in the leather office chair. I opened the drawer and extracted a piece of white lined paper and a sharpie marker. I placed the paper on the desk and began writing in large letters. When I was done I slipped the paper into the black binder on the top of the desk. I got up and grabbed my bag and headed for the door. I flipped the light off and locked the door as I backed out slowly, pulling it closed behind me.

I turned around and clasped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Standing there, was August, dressed in his usual preppy clothes, his blonde hair orderly. His thoughts were clear to me now - yet I somehow hadn't heard them before, which was strange. I let my hand slip from my mouth down to my chest, where my heart was pounding in fear.

"Now, what're you doing out 'ere so late at night princess?" he inquired. I tried to scan his thoughts to see what _he_ was doing out here so late. But got nothing. His thoughts were always like this. He only seemed to think about things were going on right at the moment. I never knew anything about his past. Currently, he was thinking about how nice my boobs looked in this shirt. Breasts were something he commonly thought about - even when they weren't mine.

"I could ask _you_ the same thing," I retorted.  
"I just came to get my trig book," he said, lifting it up to show me, "I left it 'ere in my locker."

"Well, if you don't mind, I have to get going," I said and tried to walk away, but he reached out and snatched my arm.  
"Hey!" I exclaimed, trying to pull away. But he was strong and I couldn't as he pulled me closer to him, so that I was leaning against his chest, his hand gripping my wrist. His other hand snaked around to press against my neck, tilting my head up to him. He crushed his lips against mine in a painfully rough kiss. Even if I had wanted to kiss him back, I couldn't. He dominated the kiss and didn't give any signs of releasing me any time soon. I struggled angrily against and did the only thing I knew was sure to make him let go. I kneed him in the crotch. _That_ made him let me go.

"What the fuck!" I shouted at him as he doubled over in pain. He groaned, clutching his abdomen.  
"Well!" I demanded angrily.

He panted a bit more before straightening up. "You can't tell me you didn't want to," he said, "You and I, we're alike. We belong together. Everybody can see."  
"I'm with Will," I told him, "And I don't want to be with anybody else. Understand?"

"C'mon princess," he urged, reaching out to caress my cheek, "We're perfect for each other."  
I swatted his hand away as hard as I could. "Don't touch me," I hissed.

"Don't be silly little princess," he said, reaching out to stoke my hair.  
"I said don't touch me!" I shouted as I whacked him with my purse. He cried out in pain and hunched over as he backed up. Which is when I took off running.

"Amunet!" he called after me.  
"Stay away from me you creep!" I yelled as I ran.

"This isn't over Amunet!" he shouted, "You will be mine!" I looked back over my shoulder at him to see that he was still looking at me, but making no attempt to follow me. I kept running until I reached the girl's bathroom and then I ducked inside. I leaned against the cold tiled wall for a minute, catching my breath. I then peered out of the doorway and down the hallway, to see that he was gone. He must've left. I breathed a sigh of relief. That fucking creep. If he didn't stay the hell away from me then I was going to tell Will what August did. Then he'd be sorry.

Taking even breaths to calm myself, I went over to the mirror to adjust myself. I examined my eyes, making sure my contacts were properly in. I hated wearing my contacts, but until my new glasses came in, I was stuck with them. I then moved on to make sure my outfit and hair was in working order. I had a date with Will that night and I had dressed nicely. My hair was down, but held back with a dark purple ribbon as a headband, bow side up. I was wearing a short purple retro-frock with minuscule dark red dots on it, quarter-sleeves, and a low neckline.

I hadn't the slightest idea what we were doing, so I'd figured I would wear a nice dress, but nothing extravagant. Satisfied, I put my bag over my shoulder and exited the bathroom, keeping an eye out for August. While I walked down the eerily empty hallway I thought I saw something in the corner of my vision; another of those damn black shadows. I shook my head. This was getting annoying now. I'd seen them almost everyday since Thursday. I must've been having some kind of migraine thing - where you see auroras. Or maybe it was a psychic vampire thing; I'd have to ask Will about that.

I went outside into the darkness and went down to the parking lot - my car the only one there. I got inside and began my drive to Will's house. It wasn't a long ride; only about ten minutes. When I pulled up at his house there were several cars in the driveway - none of which I recognized. I parked my car on the curb and, leaving my purse in the car, I began my treck up the driveway to the front door, my plum colored pumps clicking evenly against them as I walked.

I rung the doorbell and listened to the very feminine thoughts coming from the other side of the door while I waited for someone to open it. After a surprisingly long delay the door finally opened to reveal Bindy. She was dressed in grey cotton shorts and a white tank top, and she was holding her freshly painted nails out in front of her. She was standing oddly and the reason, I saw, was because of the rolls of cotton in between her newly painted toes.

"Well hi Amunet!" she enthused, "Now don't y'all look pretty."  
"Thank you," I said.

"Well come in, come in," she urged, stepping aside, "Will's in his room, gettin' dressed."  
I stepped inside and closed the doors, listening to the feminine thoughts and voices coming from the other room. "What's going on here?" I wondered.

"Oh I'm just havin' a girls' night with some of my gals," she said, "Come, come, meet them."  
_"On a Tuesday?"_ I thought.

Hiding my reluctance, I followed her into the living room. The estrogen in the room was almost overwhelming. There were lots of women in here - some slightly older then Bindy and others slightly younger. All of them appearing in their twenties or thirties though, maybe a few in their forties. Some were sitting on the couches, others on floor. There was food and beer out on the coffee table, along with nail polish and hair dye. The music channel was on the TV and some of them were singing along. They were all painting each others nails and doing each others hair. It really was a girl's night.

"Gals," Bindy said, "This is Will's girlfriend, Amunet."  
A woman named Donna who had curlers in her hair and a cigarette between her fingers said to me, "So you're little Billy's girlfriend? Good for him!"

I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. "Um thank you?" I said it like a question.  
"Come, come, sit, sit," she urged, patting the spot on the couch next to her. Careful of the items littering the floor, I went over and sat down next to Donna.

"Now let me introduce you to everyone. That's Sue, and Janice, and Fran, and Hilary, and right there is Paula," Donna said, pointing them all out to me, "And I'm Donna."  
"Nice to meet you," I said politely, "Where do you all know each other from?"

"From the club," Donna said.  
"The club?" I asked, confused.

"The strip club," Bindy chimed in, sitting down cross-legged on the floor.  
"The strip club?" I repeated in surprise.

"Yeah. We're all dancers there," Bindy told me matter-of-factly.  
"You're a _stripper_?" I exclaimed in shock. I must have sounded pretty damn rude but I was too surprised to care.

"Yep. Will didn't tell you?" she asked, equally as surprised.  
"No . . . " I trailed off, thinking. Why hadn't Will told me his mom was a stripper? Why hadn't I heard it somewhere? Did no one else at school know?

"Makes sense," she said, "I can't imagine most boys goin' 'round 'nouncing that there mother's takes her clothes off for money."  
"I imagine not," I mumbled in agreement, still thinking as a little grey ball of fur jumped into my lap. Will's kitten.

"Oh!" I exclaimed in surprise.  
Donna laughed. "That little thing is so adorable," she said.

"That _thing _is a pain in the ass," Bindy muttered, "It climbs all over my furniture, pisses off Janie, steals food off the counter, hides my things."  
"She's a spirited little thing," Donna argued.

"Spunky little bitch is what she is," Bindy disagreed, "And on top of all her other antics, she's totally smitten with Will. She follows him all around the house, sleeps in his bed, whines and paws at the door whenever he's gone. I'm telling you, she's in love with him."

"She's just a daddy's girl," I said, stroking her fur as she purred.  
"And speak of the devil," Bindy said, "Look whose finally ready." I followed her gaze to where Will had just stepped out of his room. He was wearing black jeans and a neon blue hoodie that matched the colors in his hair. Obviously we weren't going somewhere fancy. Not that I had expected us to be. This was Will - he didn't do fancy.

"I've been ready for an hour," he said, "I've just been hiding from the chick fest in here."  
The second the kitten saw him she leaped off of my lap and raced over to him, and began to paw at his feet.

"Daddy's girl," I accused. Will laughed as he picked her up into his arms and came over to me. I got to my feet and he kissed me briefly on the cheek. The women in the room made catcalling noises,  
"Real mature ladies," Will muttered, as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Little Billy's got a girlfriend," the woman named Sue sung.  
"So do you," he shot back.

"Guilty as charged," she laughed along with the others.  
"Now if you'll excuse us, we have to go," he said as he began to lead me out of the living room.

"Don't stay out too late," Bindy called as we left the living room.  
"Maybe," he said as we entered the kitchen. He opened the front door for me and I stepped outside. He followed, the cat still in his arms.

"Please tell me she's not coming on our date," I said.  
"Jealous?" he teased.

"As long as you don't bring her with us," I hinted.  
"Relax. I'm not going to bring the cat on our date," he said, "She's just a little hard to part with."

He then placed the cat inside and slid her across the floor gently with his hand. "Bye baby," he said as he quickly shut the door. I could hear her whimpering and pawing on the other side of the door. God, I'd never seen a cat who was so clingy. Usually it was dogs.

"She is such a daddy's girl," I muttered.  
"What can I say? Females are drawn to me," he said as we left the porch. I shoved his shoulder and he laughed.

"Have you come up with a name for her yet?" I wondered.  
"No," he said, "I don't want to give her just any old name. I want it to mean something."

"How about Daddy's Girl?" I teased.  
"How about Bite Me?" he teased back.

I rolled my eyes. "So where are we going anyway?"  
"You'll see . . ." he trailed off mischievously.

"I assume this means that you're driving," I said.  
"Obviously," he said. I threw him the keys but my aim was a little off and they whizzed through the air several feet in from of him. But before they hit the ground, they froze and then floated through the air right into Will's hand.

"I can't wait until I can do that," I said, "So far all I can do is unlock doors."  
"You're frustrated because you can _only _unlock doors with your mind?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes. You can do much more then I can," I pointed out.  
"You mean like this?" he asked and suddenly my car started even though we were outside. I knew that on some cars you could just hit a button on the key and the engine would start, but my car wasn't one of those.

"Show off," I muttered.  
He grinned. "If it makes you feel better, you're a much better mind reader then me," he said, "I can only read the mind of someone I'm in the same room as."

"Trust me, you don't _want _to be able to hear more," I said.  
"I get what you mean. For thirteen years I couldn't read minds, but once I learned, I can't keep from hearing them," he mumbled, "It's like, once you open the floodgates, you can't close them again."

I thought about that for a moment. "Do you wish you never learned?" I wondered.  
"Sometimes," he shrugged as we approached the car. Will got in the driver's seat and I got in the passenger's seat. He began driving and there was a brief silence.

"Will," I said after hardly a minute, "Do you ever see things?"  
"You mean like visions?" he asked, looking at me momentarily.

"No," I said, "Like . . . Shadows."  
"You mean auroras?" he wondered.

"Yeah. I suppose . . ." I trailed off, not sure if that was what they were.  
"See? There's something you can do that I can't. A lot of psychic vampires can see auroras," he said, "I can't. But honestly, after the mind reading thing, I'm kinda afraid to try. I feel like if I start seeing them I won't be able to stop. You know?"

"I'm not sure if that's what these are," I mumbled, "I don't see them around people. Sometimes I see them in my peripheral vision. Like . . . black floating phantoms. But when I look, they're gone."  
"Hmmm . . . Strange. I'm sure it's just some sort of psychic vampire ability," he assured me, "We can do all sorts of crazy shit."

I nodded in agreement, soothed. I mean, why would I worry? Sure, I might've been a psychic vampire and a mind reader, but at that point in my life that was as supernatural as it got. As far as I concerned, this psychic vampire thing was all about science - using parts of your brain normal people couldn't. Nothing_ really _supernatural like werewolves or witches or ghosts. Those things were fairy tales. I had no reason to think that anything bad was going to happen. Only, I probably should've.

"So . . . Does this date involve dinner?" I asked, "Because I am quite hungry."  
"Yes," he said simply.

"Please tell me you're not taking me to the drive-thru at McDonald's," I said, "I spent too much time on my hair to get fast food."  
He laughed. "Don't worry Net. This is a real sit down dinner," he promised.

"Are we going to a diner?" I guessed, "Because you are not properly dressed for a nice restaurant."  
"No . . ." he trailed off mischievously.

"Are we having a picnic? No," I amended, "You didn't bring any food."  
He didn't say anything in response, just smirked.

"Where are we going?" I demanded, "You know I hate surprises."  
"I thought we talked about how you need to be surprised more often," he said.

"No," I argued, "You talked, I disagreed."  
"Isn't that how most of our conversations go?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. It was dark but I caught glimpses of vaguely familiar houses. I was trying to figure out where we were going. We were obviously in a residential area; what the hell? I was momentarily confused, until we passed Heather's house.

"Will," I said in a slow, nervous voice, "Please tell me we're not going to your dad's."  
He was silent.

"Will," I repeated, "Tell me we're not going to your dad's."  
Again, he was silent.

"Will!" I reprimanded forcefully.  
"I thought it was about time you met my dad," he finally said, "Show you he's not so bad."

"Like hell he's not so bad!" I exclaimed, "He's _awful!_"  
"You don't even know him," Will defended his dad.

"I don't have to know him," I hissed, "He's a bastard. I already hate him."  
"Nettie," he warned.

"No Will, I'm serious. He's a soulless bastard. I hope he rots in hell for what he does to you. I hate him. And you should to."  
"Nettie," he said again, "He just has a temper. It's not his fault."

"You're in denial Will," I informed him, "You need help."  
"If you'll just meet him-" he began.

"No _Will, _I'm not going to meet him," I said, "Because if I become within touching distance of him, I'm going to bludgeon him to death my hand bag."  
Will gave me an intolerant look through his lashes. "Stop being so melodramatic," he told me, "You're overreacting."

"I believe you're under-reacting," I said, "In fact, I believe you've been under-reacting for a very long time."  
He gave me another look as the car came to a stop. "Talk is cheap Nettie. There's no use talking about things that can't be changed."

"But Will, it _can_ be changed. There are laws and -" I tried to say.  
He cut me off. "All of which would involve my dad going to prison, right? Well, I don't want that. I admit, I'd rather he didn't hit me but that doesn't mean I want to see him in jail."

"But Will -" I began.  
"Nettie," he said forcefully, "Just let it die already."

"I can't," I said.  
He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. "Look," he finally said, "Just behave yourself tonight, alright?"

"I told you I'm not -"  
He cut me off again. "Just do it okay?" he said and then added, "For me?"

He was working me and he knew it. The way he looked up at me with those stormy grey eyes through those sooty lashes. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. "Fine," I sighed in defeat.  
"Good," he said as he opened the door and exited the car.

I sighed heavily, sure that this wouldn't go well, and got out as well. I studied at Will's dad house for a moment. It looked much different without all the snow out front. I hadn't been here since the night Heather had slipped. Looking at the house I felt the same feeling I had that night - fear. The lights were on inside and thoughts could be heard. I'd never been here when Will's family was home.

Will came up behind me and snaked an arm around my waist and kissed my neck. "You look beautiful tonight, you know," he said.  
"Thanks," I mumbled listlessly.

"You should wear your hair down more often," he said, twirling a strand of it around his finger.  
I shrugged. "It's a hassle," was all I said.

"It still looks nice," he told me as he began to lead me towards the house. It was a quick walk. When we began walking up the porch steps I cringed, thinking of Heather.  
"Don't worry," Will said, misinterpreting my cringe, "They'll love you."

In response to that, I rolled my eyes. Like I wanted _their_ approval.

Will turned the doorknob and swung the door open. It wasn't locked and if it was - it wasn't anymore. We stepped inside the living room, which was empty. My eyes went to the window that I had broken almost a month ago. It was all fixed by now of course.

"We're here!" Will announced as he led me into the kitchen, which was also empty, and then into the dining room, which I _wish_ had been empty. But sadly, it was full of people. I didn't know most of these people and I really wished it had stayed that way. But, it turns out, I _did _know one of them.

My eyes immediately went to him. He was a guy who looked about nineteen or twenty and had a mop sandy brownish blonde curls on his head. His eyes were brown, his skin faintly tanned. He was dressed casually in a grey t-shirt and he was sitting down at the table, drinking a beer with his dinner.

It was Milo. The ringleader of the little gang that had tried to mug me almost two months ago. I was shocked to realize that this was Will's step brother, although I should've have been. Will had mentioned him on several occasions. I'd always assumed it was just a coincidence. I should've known better. Milo wasn't that common of a name - especially not in a small town like Hollow Creek.

I couldn't dwell on that for long, my eyes instinctually roamed about the rest of the room. Next to Milo sat a pale girl who looked about his age and had a long curly dark brown hair with streaks of purple in it. I knew that this was Melissa, Milo's girlfriend.

Next to her was a large guy who was probably in his early twenties. He was big-boned and heavily muscled with very shaggy dirty blonde hair. He was dressed in a stained white t-shirt and he smelled like tobacco. This had to be Will's other step brother, whom I knew was named Nate.

Next to him was a woman who was in her early forties. I knew this was Will's step mom, but honestly, she was nowhere near as pretty as Bindy. She had light brown hair that cascaded all the way down to her face, and a face slathered with well-done makeup. She was dressed in a slutty low-cut black blouse. I didn't understand why Will's dad would leave Bindy for this woman. She was much older and not nearly as pretty. I would've attributed it to the fact that she was obviously a slut. But come on, Bindy's a fucking stripper, how much sexier does this man need?

Speaking of this 'man' there he was, sitting at the head of the table. The soulless devil himself. Will's dad. He was probably in his early thirties and looked similar to that picture of him I'd seen in Will's room. Only in that picture he'd barely looked eighteen. He didn't show a lot of signs of age - he was actually very good looking, which I hated to admit, even to myself. He had a mop of dark hair, a little darker then Will's, a strong jaw, and a pair of grey eyes that were sickeningly similar to Will's.

"Well there you are," Will's step mom Pamela said to him, but her eyes were on me curiously. "And who is this?"  
"Who the hell is she?" Nate asked at the same time with no prelude, his eyes glued to my cleavage.

"This is my _girlfriend_," Will said pointedly, glaring at him as he tightened his arm around me possessively. "I told you she was coming to dinner, remember?"  
"I remember," Will's dad jumped in with a kind smile, "Nice to meet you sweetheart. I'm Max, Will's dad."

It was shocking to think that this guy who seemed so nice was really a child abuser. I tried not to think about it though. If I did, I would surely grab one of the dinner knives and stab him with that. An that would be just plain irrational. Instead, I focused on the thoughts of the room. There were mixed reactions to me amongst them.

_"Nice tits, but what about the ass? Can't see from this angel . . ." _thought Nate.  
_"Do I know this chick from somewhere? She looks so damn familiar . . ." _thought Milo.  
_"Are those Jimmy Choos? Don't tell me this girl is wearing Jimmy Choos to have dinner with her boyfriend's family. Jesus Christ . . . I wonder what her father does for a living . . ." _thought Pamela.  
_"What the fuck is Will doing with little Lucy Ricardo over here? Bitch looks like fucking Sandra Dee," _thought Melissa.  
_"Hmm, Will was right. She is pretty. Good for him," _thought Max.

"I'm Amunet," I said mildly, trying to keep the hate out of my voice.  
"What a pretty name," commented Pamela with a fake interest. Really she was just wondering where I'd gotten my dress.

"Yeah it Indian or something?" Nate chimed in, "You look Indian."  
"Nathan!" Pamela and Max rebuked at the same time.

"What? It's a compliment. Indian chicks are hot," he defended himself.  
"It's Egyptian actually," I informed him curtly, "I'm Egyptian."

"Still hot," he said.  
"Are you done?" Will demanded.

"For now . . ." he mumbled.  
Will rolled his eyes at his step brother before turning to me. "C'mon sit," he said and sat down across from Nate, leaving me to sit in the only empty seat, in between him and Pam. Well, it was better then being across from Nate, which was why probably Will had taken that seat himself.

"So what are we having?" I asked casually, looking at the food. I wasn't sure if they knew about psychic vampires so I was better off lying low for a while.  
"Chicken wings, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob," Pamela told me, "Melissa here made it."

I guess I'll never go out to dinner with Will and have caviar, will I?

"Which means it'll actually be edible," Milo muttered as Will began to take food onto his plate. I figured I should probably do the same. I took viisbly smaller portions though.  
"Don't talk about your mother's cooking like that," Max told him.

"Yeah, I don't see you cooking," Pamela jumped in as she drank from the drinking glass full of wine in front of her.  
"She's right. Even Will's a better cook then you Milo," Melissa said.

"Will's a better cook then _she _is," Milo retorted.  
"Well that's cause Will's a good little housewife, isn't that right Will?" Nate teased, thinking of how Will was always doing housework when he was over. Nate speculated that it was to get in good with his dad. Nate didn't understand why Will bothered, he was already the favorite after all, the _baby _of the family.

Will flipped him off silently as he tore a piece of chicken off the bone with his teeth, glaring at his step brother.  
"So Amunet," Pamela said, trying to change the subject and avoid a fight, "How do you and Will know each other?"

"We go to the same school," I said with a slight shrug as I took delicately tried to cut off pieces of chicken with my knife, "We hang out with the same people."  
"Really?" Milo asked, seeming surprised, "_You_ hang out with Will's fuck up friends?"

"Yes. Why does this surprise you?" I practically hissed. I only stopped it from being a full hiss by locking my teeth together.  
"Because you're obviously a goodie-two-shoes," Melissa jumped in, her voice surprisingly harsh.

"Melissa," Max warned quietly.  
"Excuse me?" I demanded of her, ignoring him.

"What?" she asked, not seeming to get why I was angry, "It's not like it's a big secret. You're obviously a total priss. I mean, you're eating chicken wings with a _fork and knife!"  
_"Mel!" Will said, his voice a little louder then his usual volume. This of course shut Melissa up because she knew Will well and knew that it was rare for him to raise his voice.

"So Amunet," Pamela said, filling the awkward silence, "I love your shoes. Are they Jimmy Choos?"  
"Yes, they are," I said.

"They're gorgeous," she enthused, "They must've cost a fortune!"  
I shrugged nonchalantly, confirming her suspiciouns that I was 'rolling in it.' I rightfully assumed that 'it' was money.

"They look like fuck-me-heels," Nate said without prelude, thinking back to when I walked in.  
"Nathan!" Pamela and Max rebuked strongly at the same time that Will said, "Dude what the hell!"

"What?" he asked innocently, "They totally do. I mean, how tall are you Amunet? 5'3, _maybe _5'4. Those shoes makes you look like 5'8."  
"I'll tell you what they make her look like . . . A stripper," Milo muttered under his breath, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

I for one, wasn't that angry. I _liked_being taller. That hardly made me a stripper. Will, however wasn't as indifferent. I could understand why he would be upset. I had a feeling it was only partially because Milo had called his girlfriend a stripper. But also because Milo was obviously insulting Will's mother at the same time. His thoughts made it clear that he was taunting Will, who Milo knew could read minds. _"Like mother like daughter in law," _he taunted Will mentally, causing Will to get to his feet and slam his hands down forcefully on the table.

"William," Max said gently, "Relax."  
Glaring at his smirking step brother, Will sunk back down into his chair. I patted his hand soothingly.

"Milo," Pamela said, "Apologize to Amunet now. You too Nate."  
"Sorry," Nate said, "But it _is_ true."

Milo was silent. "Listen to your mother," Max scolded, smacking him upside the head. Not hard but still, it stirred angry feelings inside me.  
"Sorry," Milo muttered sourly.

"You shouldn't hit your children Mr. Sharp," I said curtly in a deadly quiet, deadly calm voice, my eyes downcast on my food.  
It was silent in the room for a minute - every member of the Sharp family thinking of what I'd said. They all thought the same thing; _Does she know? _

"She's a pacifist," Will made up an excuse for me.  
"No I'm not," I said, still in the eerily calm voice I hadn't used in ages, "I'm just against child abuse. Surely you all are too, correct?"

"Of course we are," said Max with an almost genuine smile and a slightly nervous laugh. He wasn't lying actually. It wasn't that he was one of those people who considering hitting your kids 'discipline.' He was just an extremely violent person with a horrible temper. He hurt anybody who pissed him off - his wife, his ex-wife. Not _just_ his kids.

The rest of the meal passed similiarily. Pamela complimented me on my clothes and grilled me about what my 'father' did for a living. Max asked me normal, friendly questions about where I was thinking of attending college and what extra-curriculars I was involved in. Milo was quiet, purposely thinking dirty things about me just to annoy Will. Melissa didn't really say anything to me, just kind of pretended like I wasn't there. Nate just stared at my boobs the entire time - oblivious to the fact that both Will and I _knew_ what he was doing.

The second we were both done Will jumped to his feet, nearly pulling my arm out it's socket when he grabbed my hand and brought me with him him. "We're done," he said and then proceeded to drag me towards the exit, causing me to nearly trip in my 'stripper heels.' He then brougt me into his vacant living room.

"That was awful," I muttered.  
"If you knew my family, you'd know that that could've been much worse," he said as he led over to stand in front of the couch.

"Really? Because you seemed just as eager to get out of there," I accused.  
"Yeah. Because all that talk of 'fuck me heels' made me want to do this," he said, and then slipped his arms around me, resting one on the small of my back and the other on my ass and drawing himself closer to me.

"Will!" I stage whispered, conscious of his family in the other room.  
"Nettie," he mocked me by making his voice a sexy pur, a heavy contrast to my nervous squeak. He began to dot my neck with kisses.

"Will," I warned as he began to nip at my neck with his teeth.  
"Just go with it," he murmured between each of his little love bites, squeezing my ass once, causing me to spasm, and trip in my too-high-heels and fall back onto the couch, bringing Will with me.

He looked down at me for a second from where he was practically sitting on my lap and shrugged. "Okay. I can work with this," he said.  
"Will!" I said again. "Your family is right in the other room!"

"Key word being other," he said, pushing me back so that I was lying across my back across the couch with Will straddling my waist  
_"Will!" _I tried again, wishing he would get the message.

"Oh yeah," he said in a mockingly moaning voice, "Say my name again."  
"You _jerk_!" I exclaimed as he laid across me and began to kiss and nip at my neck again.

"Stop it," I squealed. Now don't get me wrong, I loved it. But I just knew _somebody_was going to walk in. No matter who it was - I was going to die of embarrassment when they did.  
"Come on Nettie," he purred between his kisses, "I know you like it."

"Pretentious . . . jerk . . ." I breathed.  
He laughed low in his throat, a highly arousing sound as his mouth moved lower and lower. Migrating south from my neck and down to my cleavage. I inhaled sharply, not used to this kind of behavior. Will touched my breasts before but he never put his _mouth _there. That was just an experience in itself. I had to grip the sides of the couch, half expecting to orgasm just from the feeling of his soft lips buried in my breasts.

"Oh . . . My . . . God," I panted, "You evil little . . .bastard!"  
He laughed again, the sound causing his lips to vibrate against my chest. I moaned and wanted to gag myself for it. I almost did gag myself when Will licked a line up my cleavage with his tongue. I covered my mouth with my hand to prevent myself from becoming extremely vocal. God, I was _so_ not used to this.

Will dragged his lips back north now, kissing and nipping up my neck and jawline now before reaching my lips. It was kind d of weird - kissing him after he just licked my boobs but I suppose there were more disturbing places he could've licked so, perhaps I was lucky. Or perhaps, I was unlucky. I couldn't decide. It was hard to decide anything when Will was kissing me actually. Sometimes I speculated that his mouth had magic powers. The way his lips moved and the way his tongue moved . . . It was like fucking witchcraft I swore.

His hands were just as remarkable, so remarkable that I wasn't even concerned by what they were doing. He had slipped his hands under my short dress, bunching the dress up to my waist, revealing my panties. Which, neither of us seemed to notice for a while, seeing as we were making out and Will had his hands under my bra, massaging my boobs. Eventually, the kiss just became too damn arousing for me and I ended up hooking my legs around him out of some weird instinct.

"Your fucking heels are digging into my thighs," he groaned against my lips.  
"Oops," I mumbled.

"Who said it was a bad thing?" he asked and continued kissing me fiercily. It went on like that for a while, time completely irrelevant. Will's body was up against mine, his lips against mine, his hands on my breasts, my hands under his shirt and feeling his hard abs, my legs hooked around him. I seemed to forget that we were in Will's living room. For a while . . .Until I heard.

"Oh yeah Billy - get it in!"

Will broke the kiss for a moment and we both looked up to see Nate casually strolling in and plopping down on the couch and grabbing the remote, totally casually. He did look back at Will and I once again though - taking in the way that our bodies were totally tangled together. He also took a moment to admire the way my dress pooled around my waist and how my bare legs were in the air.

Will flipped him off easily before moving his lips back to mine. I pushed him away, flushed with embarrassment. "William!" I said firmly, pushing him off of me. He got up this time, realizing I was serious this time. He watched me as I got up and struggled to fix myself up. I straightened out my dress, making sure it covered all my lady parts. I smoothed out my hair, trying to fix my bow. Will rolled his eyes at me as I meticiously fixed myself. Will didn't seem to care about hos disheveled he looked. His hair was wild and messy, his unzippered sweatshirt hanging off one of his shoulders, the black t-shirt he wore underneath partially up, revealing a strip of pale hard abdomen. He was rolling his eyes at me.

Nate saw the look. "That's the problem with messing around with prissy chicks," he said, "They flip a bitch when they have sex hair. Remember these lessons baby brother."  
"If anyone has sex hair, it's Will," I quipped once my hair was in perfect order. I had used Nate's thoughts as a mirror. Practical, I know. I may seem like a priss to them. Well it wasn't like I could go home looking like a whore! Unlike someone . . . Namely Will. Who was fine with fooling around with me in front of his brother. Men . . .

"I do it as a curteousy to you," he teased, "It's so all the other chicks know I'm already getting some."  
"Jerk," I teased back, shoving his shoulder, "I'm going home, you want a ride back to your mom's or are you staying here?"

"I'll come with you," he said, "Bye Nate."  
"Bye Billy," he called back, his eyes trained on the baseball game on TV, "Bye Amunet."

"Bye," I said plainly as Will left for a minute to say goodbye to the others before returning to walk with me back outside. Once he closed the door he said, "See, that wasn't so bad."  
"Your brothers called me a stripper and then you were about to have your way with me on your couch," I said plainly, "In front of your brother."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just those heels. They have powers," he mocked.  
I shoved him. "You are just a dick," I muttered.

"I'm complimenting you!" he said.  
"Calling me a stripper is not a compliment," I informed him.

"I disagree," he joked as we approached the car.  
"Really? I'm surprised. Considering your mom's a stripper," I said, speaking without thinking. I threw a hand over my mouth after that.

"Milo," was all he said, nodding.  
"No. Your mom actually told me," I said.

"When?" he asked.  
"Today."

"Oh."  
"Why didn't you tell me?" I wondered.

"Not exactly something I'm proud of," he muttered, starting my car with his mind as if to have something to think of.  
"Why would you think I would mind?" I asked as I got in the driver's seat.

"I don't know," he admitted, also getting in, "It's just a . . . reflex of mine. You know, not to tell people."  
"I get it," I said, "You don't have to tell me anything unless you want to. Well, except the thing about your dad. Stuff like that you have to tell me."

"Which reminds me, what was that little stunt at dinner?" he demanded, "Are you _trying_ to get me killed? If he thought that I told you . . ."  
"Sorry," I apologized, "I just don't think it's right."

"I thought you promised not to get involved," he asked.  
"I did," I lied.

"Good," he said.  
"Good," I echoed.

As long as he never found out what I wrote on that paper.


	28. Confrontational Girl

**Confrontational Girl**

The next day I was a little jumpy. I was waiting, praying, for the guidance counselor to call Will into her office. But that wasn't the main reason for my concern at the moment. I was also avoiding August. He'd scared the living hell out of me the night before. I hadn't seen him all day, but that didn't mean he wasn't here. I didn't have any classes with him, other then lunch, which I was actually on my way to. I was dreading opening those doors and seeing him sitting on the steps, reading one of his books. Would he come on to me again? Even with Will there? Oh God, Will . . . I hadn't told Will about the kiss. What if Will read August's mind and saw what had happened - from his warped point of view it would probably seem like _I _kissed _him. _Oh God Will would flip when he found out. For the first time in my life, I prayed that he was high.

I quickened my pace ever so slightly as I neared the front doors. When I reached them I threw them open and rushed outside, expecting to find Will murdering August or waiting to murder me. However, I found nothing of the sort. It was all very . . . normal. Very anti-climatic to say the least. Heather sat on one of the middle steps, Mike's head in her lap as he laid across the step. She was playing with his hair while they discussed their plans to go to the movies on Friday. Juliet and Kristy sat below them, keeping them to themselves as they discussed celebrities. Aaron was leaning against the railing, texting Lori while talking to August.

Will wasn't there though. That was both releaving and unsettling. "Where's Will?" I demanded of nobody and everybody.  
"He got called to the guidance counselor last period," Aaron said, "He hasn't come back yet."

"Shit!" I exclaimed and whirled around, not even looking at August as I stormed back inside the school. I half ran to the guidance counselor's officer to find the door locked and the lights off - a little sticky note proclaiming that they were at lunch. "Fuuuck," I muttered. This meant that Will's appointment was over and he hadn't come outside. That was not a good sign.

So hence began my frantic search for Will. I really didn't know where to look for him. I knew all about his favorite hangouts in town . . . But at school? There was only spot I knew he really liked - and that was the front steps. Other then that, he really didn't like any place in school, as far as I knew. If he did, he kept it to himself.

So what did that leave me to do? Wander the school aimlessly, looking anywhere I thought he might be. I tried the music room, the cafeteria, and the art room. They were the only places I thought he would go if he was in a bad mood. I really thought I'd had a winner with the art room - Will loved drawing and took two different art classes. I was actually surprised that he _wasn't _there. This really left me with a problem. I couldn't think of anywhere else he would go in school. Hell, maybe he wasn't even here. I was just about to leave the building to continue my search for him - maybe he went to Hanley's or maybe he went home.

But . . . Then the boy who walked by me thought of Will. Wondering what Will was so upset about as he stomped into the weight room. I was confused, but I took off immediately, heading for the weight room, where the football team worked out. I couldn't imagine what Will would be doing there - he hated sports. But it didn't matter. I was sure that Will was there - the boy had seen him walk into the weight room about ten minutes ago. Surely he was still there.

I went into the empty gym and crossed the waxed wooden floor to where the weight room door was, on the other side of the room. I pushed the metal door open and was shocked by what I saw. There was Will . . . half-naked and _working out _for Christ's sake. And sweet mother of Jesus did he look _hot_. I'd never actually seen Will shirtless - something I had always detested. But now that I had . . . I wondered how I had lived this long _without_ seeing it.

He was dressed in black basketball shorts that reached about to his knees . . . And that was pretty much it. No shirt. He was so much more . . . muscular then I'd imagined. I mean, I'd always been a fan of his muscular arms and I knew that he had abs. But I had no idea that he had a _six pack_. Because, typically, only athletes had six packs. And up until now, I didn't think Will was very athletic. But there he was, doing pull ups on this extremely high bar, his hot body glistening with sweat, his eyes blazing.

Will didn't say anything and I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth either. My eyes were trained on the way his muscles contracted and relaxed as he lifted himself up and down. Up and down. His eyes were on me the entire time. A slow anger building in them.

"Will -" I finally began.  
"I know what you did," he cut me off, still glaring.

"I don't know what you're -" I tried to say as I took a step closer.  
"Cut the crap Amunet," he snapped in such a cold voice that I stopped in my tracks.

There was a silence. I couldn't even move. I was frozen in place by Will's anger. An intense anger that had never been directed at me before. I'd only ever seen him this mad at one person before - and that was Kristy. He'd been that angry at her _because_ she'd hurt _me._ I hadn't known Will could be angry at me.

"Did you _really_ think I wouldn't recognize your hand writing?" he demanded.  
"Will I was just trying to -" I tried to say again.

"I told you to not get involved!" he shouted, dropping fluidly from the bar. His feet hit the floor with a hard thud that echoed through the large room. "You _promised_ not to get involved! You lied to me!"  
"Will you have to underst-" I began but he cut me off again.

"No, Amunet, I don't _have_ to do anything you ask!" he yelled, taking angry, prowling steps towards me, "Because you, _obviously, _don't respect me enough to do what _I_ ask."  
"Will I _do _respect you but I can't-"

"Stop lying to me!" he shouted.  
"Stop interrupting me damnit!" I shouted back, getting angry, "Let me finish a fucking sentence! Let me explain god damn it!"

"Fine. Go ahead then. Explain," he said shortly, crossing his arms over his muscular chest and giving me a challengingly look that said _'Go ahead, try and make me forgive you. Try and make this better. You can try all you want. It's not going to work.'  
_

"Will, you have to understand what it's like for me . . . Watching you get hurt, over and over and _over _again. It's hell Will. Because I lo - I really care about you. And it _kills _me to see you suffering like this. I've never cared about someone as much as I care about you. I never even thought I _could_ care about someone this much. But I do Will. I really care about you and it hurts me to sit by and watch you get hurt. You _know_ that I can't just sit by idly and watch that happen."

"All _I _know is that you promised me you _would _sit by idly," he snarled, "Only you didn't. You _lied _to me."  
"I had to Will! You don't _think_ clearly! Not about this," I exclaimed, "You're _blinded _by your desire to have the perfect family. You are so obsessed with having the perfect family that you delude yourself into thinking that you _do_ have the perfect family. But you don't. You have the must _fucked up_ family I have _ever _seen."

"I do not," he growled, "And you need to learn to mind your own god damn business."  
"You're my boyfriend Will," I said, "You _are_my business."

"That's right Amunet. I am your boyfriend. And you should respect my wishes enough to not do something when I ask you not to," he said.  
"You don't understand Will. What's happening with your dad is _bad_. Hell, it's _illegal_. It's a horrible thing and I won't stand by and let it happen. No matter what you do, I won't stop. You can break up with me, try and make me hate you, push me in front of a fucking bus. But no matter what _I will never stop trying to fix this_."

"Try," he snarled, "I want you to try.  
"I _can't _Will," I said desperately.

"I - I can't talk to you right now," he said, waving a hand over his head as he walked past me. He stalked away from me.  
"Will!" I said as he turned and walked right into the guys' locker room. I was about to go in there - because hey, I knew it was empty in there aside from Will.

"Lamorte before you come in here keep in mind that I now have no clothes on," he called as I heard a shower being turned on.  
"Do you really think that will stop me Sharp?" I called back.

"No but if you come in here, you're going to end up loosing your virginity in the guys' locker room," he called back. I knew he was kidding, but he was also right. If I saw Will naked . . .  
"Damn you Sharp!" I shouted, slamming my hand down on the door. Although, I was slightly appeased. He'd obviously cooled off enough to make jokes. Which meant he wasn't too pissed anymore.

"Boy troubles?" came August's voice, causing me to whirl around and jump. I yelped in surprise and wished that Will wasn't taking a shower. Once he got in, he wouldn't be able to hear me. Like the way I hadn't been able to hear August's thoughts again. Was it the shower or was there something weird about August?

"You know all about those," I snapped after calming down, leaning against the locker room door.  
"Just an observation love," he said, smirking at me.

"Well go _observe _some other people," I hissed, "And leave Will and I to deal with our problems on our own."  
"What if I told you you never 'ad to deal with Will again?" he asked, smiling in a threatening way. Although his thoughts weren't threatening. He was simply thinking about my boobs, as always.

"Are you _threatening_ my boyfriend?" I snarled, "Because if you are, I'll claw your eyes out you British prick."  
"Feisty, feisty," he clucked disapprovingly.

"Get a life dickhead," I hissed. A silence passed through us. The only noise was the sound of Will's shower coming from behind the door. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder instinctually even though I couldn't see him through the door.

"He works out because his dad wanted him to be an athlete," he said finally.  
"What?" I asked, his thoughts giving no indication as to what he was talking about.

"Will," he said, nodding at the door, "He works out because his dad wanted him to be an athlete. But Will hates sports, you know that. So to appease his dad he goes to the gym with him every weekend. Sometimes he goes to the weight room when he ditches class. Physical exertion and pain relaxes him. He's used to it you know, because of his abusive dad."

I stared at him in shock. Not only did he know that Will's dad was abusive, but he also knew more about Will's background then _I _did. Oh . . . This was bad. This was really bad. I _knew_ there was something weird about August. I'd _known_. He'd always been creepy.

"How do you know all of that?" I demanded, taking a step closer to him.  
"I know a lot of things love," he said, still smiling, "I know how to make a lot of bad things happen."

"Don't threaten me," I growled, "Or I'll make you regret it."  
"I'm not threatening you, I'm promising you Amunet. If you don't break up with your little boy toy in there, _you_'re going to regret it."

"Excuse me?" I stammered out in complete shock.  
"You 'eard me princess," he said, his voice a dangerous growl, "Break up with Will, or he's going to have an unfortunate accident."

"Don't you threaten me you _asshole_," I hissed, "And you stay the hell away from my boyfriend."  
"I told you princess," he said, "I'm not threatening. I'm promising. You _will_ be mine - remember."

"Unless you want to walk around the rest of your life without your manhood," I hissed, grabbing his shirt, "You will stay the fuck away from _me _and my _boyfriend_."  
"You're going to be sorry," he said, pulling my hand away from his shirt. With that, he turned and headed for the gym exit, his thoughts on nothing except his surroundings.

"Like I'm scared of a British pussy like you!" I called sarcastically.  
"You should be princess," he said lightly as he disappeared.

If only I'd listened.


	29. Avenging Girl

**Avenging Girl**

If I was smart I would've taken August's threat seriously. But of course, I didn't. Despite how sketchy and creepy he was, I just assumed he was bluffing. Because, _of course_ he was bluffing. He wouldn't _really_ do anything to hurt Will, would he? He was just trying to scare me into being with him. Well, I'd refused to back down. Which had been a huge mistake. If only I hadn't been so damn proud.

I was sitting in psychics, waiting for Will to show up the next morning. We'd more or less made up since yesterday's incident. We'd agreed to disagree. I'd promised to stay uninvolved _for now _but he'd promised to come over to my house whenever things at his dad got rough. I wasn't exactly happy with it but I hated arguing with Will, plus he was so stubborn that he was never going to believe me until his dad crossed the line and he really got hurt.

I was standing by my desk, talking with Heather. I now sat in the front with Will, where Kristy used to sit. But she'd relinquished her seat to me after some prodding. She was sitting off alone while I talked with Heather, since our teacher always went for a smoke off campus this period so we had about ten minutes to ourselves, most days. We were just sitting and chatting, but my eyes kept straying to the door, waiting for Will. He'd probably gone to the bathroom to smoke or something.

When he finally did come inside I was pretty sure he'd just gone to smoke pot. He looked pretty stoned. He stumbled inside and braced himself against the door frame. His hair was a little disheveled, his cheeks heavily flushed, and his eyes glassy. He put a hand to his forehead, where beads of sweat were beginning to collect. If he was stoned, he must've been having a bad trip because he looked _bad._

"Will," I said, getting up from where I'd been leaning against my desk. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah yeah," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and taking a stumbling step inside, "I'm fine."

"Did you take something?" I asked, not bothering to pitch my voice low. There were only kids in this room and all of _them _knew Will was a druggie.  
He shook his head no, and that seemed to make him dizzy so he shook his head again, faster though, as if trying to clear his head.

Heather gave him a once over. She was concerned. "Amunet maybe you should take him home," she said quietly to me, "He doesn't look so good. Maybe he's sick."  
"You're probably right," I agreed, going over to get my bag, "C'mon Will I'm taking you home."

"No Nettie it's fine. I-I'm fine," he said, taking a few steps inside and then stumbling.  
"Will. I'm taking you home." Or maybe to a doctor.

"I - I'm fiiiine," he trailed off as he stumbled again. He reached out blindly for something to support himself but there was nothing there. He took another step, veering slightly off his given path, heading towards the left. He took another blind step before suddenly collapsing to the ground.

"Will!" I exclaimed in shock, dropping my bag and heading straight for Will.  
"Oh God!" Heather shouted as she followed hot on my heels. The rest of the class basically followed suit. I knelt down next to Will, along with Heather and Kristy and a few others. The rest all hovered around.

"Will? Will? Will?" I said frantically shaking his shoulder. He didn't move.  
"I think he's unconscious," Heather said worriedly.

I rolled him over gently to see that he really _was_ out cold. His hair messily fell into his closed eyes. His sooty lashes brushed against his cheekbones, which were flushed a bright red. His entire face was covered in a sheen of sweat. His breathing was shallow, his breath coming in quick little gasps.

"Go get a teacher!" I snapped at nobody in particular. Instantly, a girl closest to the door took off down the hallway.  
"What do you think happened?" Heather asked frantically.

"I don't know," I admitted, hating those three words with all my might as they passed my lips.  
"Did he take something?" Kristy chimed in.

"No," I said, "Well, he said he didn't."  
Just then the chem teacher from next door, a younger man named Mr. Kaleb, whom I didn't know, rushed inside, with both the girl who'd gone to fetch him and _Mike_ hot on his heels. The teacher knelt down next to Will and so did Mike, while the girl hung back.

"What happened?" the teacher, Mr. Kaleb, asked. Mike put a reassuring hand atop Heather's but both of their eyes were on the unconscious form that was Will.  
"He just collapsed," I told him.

"How long ago," he demanded.  
"A couple of minutes," Heather said.

"If the fall itself doesn't wake a person who passed out it's something more serious," he mumbled thoughtfully, "Someone call 911."  
Kristy whipped out her cell phone and started dialing. She stood up and backed away from the little circle for some quiet.

"Did he have anything to eat today?" Mr. Kaleb asked.  
"He had some coffee during homeroom," I said.

The teacher didn't say anything, but he was observing Will and thinking to himself how it seems as if he was more then just fatigued. "Someone go get the nurse," he instructed.  
A boy near the door bolted off.

"They're sending an ambulance," Kristy said, closing her phone, "I told them which room."  
"Good," Mr Kaleb said just as the boy returned with Nurse Orkal, who immediately bent down next to Will, shooing away some of the hovering kids to make room for herself.

"How long has he been out?" she asked as she checked his pulse.  
"About five minutes," I answered automatically.

She clucked her tongue in disapproval but didn't say anything. "What happened before he passed out?" she asked, noting how his pulse was very quick.  
"He just walked inside . . . He seemed sick so I was going to drive him home and then he just _collapsed_," I said mournfully, worry making my mind blind to anything but Will.

"Did he hit his head when he fell?" she asked, putting her hand to his forehead. She didn't bother checking his temperature - it was obvious he had a fever.  
"No," I said, sure of it.

I could hear faint sirens in the background - the ambulance. Thank God. I promised myself then that, no matter what, I was getting in that god damn ambulance with Will. They could try and pry me out with the jaws of life and I wouldn't leave him. Nothing was going to make me leave him. I reached out for his hand and laced my fingers through his. I told myself that I wouldn't let go . . . Until I saw him. August. Leaning in the doorway with a smirk on his face. And then there were the mental images. Usually I only got flat thoughts from August - ever anything more then what he was doing at the moment. Only now, I saw a flashback, a play-by-play of when August had slipped some sort of liquid into Will's coffee when he'd left on the table in the cafeteria for a brief moment to get some milk for it.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, louder then I had ever screamed in my entire life. Six months ago I would have thought it wasn't possible for me to scream that loud. I would have thought that it wasn't possible for someone to make me that upset. I would have thought it wasn't possible for me to be this passionately furious.

Six months ago, I hadn't been in love with Will.

I realeased his hand and jumped to my feet, and in an instant, I was lunging at August, not a single coherent thought in my mind. Only hate. But before I reached him . . . everything froze. Something like this was enough to momentarily distract me from all the hate I felt. The entire room had gone dead silent - there wasn't even the sound of their breaths. I looked back at everybody to see them all frozen - like sculptures. Except for two people. Me. And August.

I whirled around to face him. "I don't know what you just did and I don't care," I snarled, "All I care about is ripping of your miserable head." I pounced on him, focused solely on _ripping _(not wiping) that sardonic smirk off of his face. I collided with him and the force of the blow caused him to slam back into the wall. I grabbed at his hair, intent on ripping out every single blonde curl. But then he grabbed my wrists and easily disconnected my hands from his hair. I screamed loudly in rage and struggled against his unusually strong grip. I kicked at him and thrashed.

"LET ME GO!" I screeched, "LET ME GO YOU SON OF A BITCH SO I CAN FUCKING KILL YOU!"  
"Easy there princess," he soothed, kissing my forehead.

I thrashed even harder, recoiling from him. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME YOU BASTARD! I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO RIP OFF YOUR TESTICLES."  
"Ooohh. I see. My little warrior princess," he noted, seeming fondly amused.

"I'M NOT YOUR PRINCESS!" I continued to shout, realizing that once you start it's impossible to stop, "_I'M NOT YOUR ANYTHING!"  
_"You're wrong," he said, his eyes burning into mine with a scary intensity, "You're my everything."

"YOU'RE NOTHING TO ME AUGUST! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? NOTHING!" I screamed, wishing he would get the message. It's not like I was speaking in Morse code. I'd practically put it on a billboard.  
"One day you'll see, my little princess," he crooned, kissing my forehead as I thrashed, "One day you'll see that we belong."

"YOU'RE A FREAK! A _FREAK_! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE AND I DON'T _CARE! _ALL I WANT IS TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" _  
_"Why sweetheart?" he asked curiously, "Because of your little boy toy in there? You shouldn't be my love. I haven't done anything that horrible . . . yet."

"YOU POISONED HIM!" I screamed, "YOU _KILLED _HIM."  
He look at me for a long time with penetrating eyes. "Last time I checked," he finally said, "He was still breathing."

That caused me to momentarily freeze in my struggles. I stood like that for what felt like an eternity, trapped in August's intense gaze. Like a bird caught in the eyes of a snake - or a deer in headlights. His strong hands were still clamped around my wrists.

Suddenly, noise flooded through the silence. I could hear activity behind me. Breaths, thoughts, words, movement. Whatever August had done, he'd undone it. He'd somehow froze everybody - froze time - but now everyone had unthawed. Their thoughts showing they had no memory of the freeze.

"Consider what happened today a warning," August said quietly before disappearing.


	30. Sacrificing Girl

**Sacrificing Girl**

I'd never really liked hospitals. Fear, sickness, pain, sadness, agony. They were all common enough themes among the thoughts of patients in a hospital. Naturally, these thoughts were not something I enjoyed. It was a generally unpleasant atmosphere. So I tried to avoid hospital scenarios most of the time, but nothing would keep me away from this hospital. Not today. I hated that I had to be here - but if this was where Will was, I would stay here all day.

I stood outside of his hospital room, watching his barely conscious form through the window. He was lying in the bed, having just woken up, with Bindy sitting next to him, holding his hand. I wanted to go in there and see him now that he was awake, but I couldn't make my feet move. I felt as if I went in there, I would burst into tears for the first time in years. The thought of breaking up with Will made my chest constrict. I was in love with him, I knew that now. But it didn't mean anything because I had to break up with him. If I wanted to keep him alive.

When a hand suddenly touched my shoulder and no thoughts reached my ears, I wasn't surprised. Seeing as Will was in the other room, I knew that this thoughtless person was August. I'd deducted that August was some kind of supernatural being, meaning that he could mask his thoughts if he wanted to. I also speculated that he could somehow create false thoughts. I assumed that he'd done it previously to keep me from becoming suspicious. But now that I knew that he wasn't human, he seemed to not be bothering with pretenses.

"Don't cry princess," he soothed.  
"I'm not," I hissed, flinching away from him, "And if I was, I'd have every right to you prick."

"You know what baby girl?" he said, "Since I hate to see you so sad, I'm goin' to give ya one more day to say goodbye."  
"If you really hated to see me so sad, you'd get the hell out of my life," I snarled.

"I can't do that princess," he said, kissing my hair, "I love you too much."  
"What a coincidence," I growled, "Seeing as I hate you too much to ever love you."

"You'll come around my love," he said, "I know you will."  
"Don't count on it," I muttered, my eyes glued to Will through the window.

He sighed, sounding faintly annoyed for once, and forcefully turned me around to face him. "Don't fucking touch me," I snarled. It wasn't over yet. Will and I were still together. There was still time. Something could happen. A miracle could happen. There was still time before I had to ruin my life and break it off with Will. I felt like it was inevitable but until it happened, I was going to fight August every step of the way.

He ignored me and put a finger under my chin, forcing my head up to look at him. He had a stern look in his eyes. "One day. Twenty four hours," he said, "Then it's buh bye baby boy. Understand?"  
"Loud and clear General Prick," I hissed.

"Good," he said, ignoring my anger, "And because you're so obedient and _so_ pretty, I'll give you _all day _tomorrow to say goodbye. I'll come by your house Saturday morning. If you haven't broken up with 'im by then, well then it will _really_ be buh bye for your boyfriend. Catch my drift love?'

"Yeah. I got it," I grumbled.  
"Good, and just one last thing," he said, his eyes staring into mine with intensity, "If you tell anybody about our _agreement, _and that includes baby boy, I'll be forced to become . . . violent."

"Save your breath," I mumbled listlessly, feeling desolate and very very tired, "I won't tell him."  
"Good," he said, kissing my forehead, "I'll see you on Saturday. Oh and be sure to make that breakup good. I'll be watching. And if you don't make him cry . . . Well then we're going to have a problem."

And then he disappeared into thin air, like a ghost. It was a little creepy to say the least. Shuddering, I turned my attention back to Will. He was sitting up in bed, talking to Bindy, completely oblivious to the encounter that had just gone on out here. I wondered vaguely if August had a way of masking himself. Because if Will looked up and saw me there with August, he'd flip a bitch.

I decided then that I had to utilize all the time I had left with Will. I had just a little over a day left with him before I had to break up with him. Before I had to make him cry. Before I had to make him hate me forever. I didn't even know how I planned to do that. The thought of hurting him made _me_ want to cry. But, Saturday seemed very far away. Even though it was just a few dozen hours away. But I was going to make those hours count.

I went over to the door of his room and pushed it open, knocking on it once. Both Will and Bindy looked up.  
"Hey," I said quietly, "How're you doing?"

"I'm okay," Will said.  
Bindy looked back and forth between us, deciding that we deserved a chance to be alone. "I'll leave ya'll alone," she said, getting up, "I should probably tell a nurse that he's up anyway."

She walked past me, brushing her fingers against my arm as she went, and closed the door behind her. I went over to the bed and sat down in the seat that Bindy had been occupying. "So how're you feeling?" I asked, grabbing hold of his hand and rubbing my thumb over the back of it in soothing circles.

"Tired," he mumbled, "And disoriented."  
"Rough morning huh?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yeah. A weird one too," he said, "I felt fine first period but then second I started feeling all sick . . . And then when I was on my way to third I felt like I was going to pass out. . . And then I did." I looked at him more closely and took note of the way he still looked a little sick. His cheeks were faintly flushed and he looked a little out of it.

"Yeah. The doctor said that you probably got a little virus. And since you didn't eat anything today it made it worse," I told him. It wasn't a lie. The doctor _had_ said that.  
"I guess that explains it," he mumbled.

"Yeah. I just hope that you'll be better for tomorrow," I crooned. I had a feeling he would be - since he wasn't actually sick.  
"Why?" he asked, seeming confused.

"Because I was hoping maybe we could ditch school . . . Maybeeee hang out at your place," I said, trying to make my voice a purr.  
He blinked once, seeming lost, before it apparently clicked for him. "Oohh," he finally caught on, "_Really?_"

"Yes, really," I cooed, "This whole ordeal made me realize how much I care about you . . . And what happened yesterday made me realize how _hot _I am for you."  
He grinned. "Surprised by how muscularly sexy I am?" he teased.

"And turned on," I said, leaning in closer.  
"That makes two of us," he said, pointedly having his eyes dart down to my chest.

"So you sure you're going to be up for it tomorrow?" I purred, "Are you sure you're going to be . . . better?"  
"For _that,_ I'll make _sure_ I'm better," he said, smiling.

"Good," I said, leaning over him more and resting my hand on his shoulder, my face just above his and my cleavage in his immediate line of vision, "Because I don't know how much longer I can last."  
He smiled, eyeing my cleavage for a moment, "This is so unlike you Nettie," he said.

"Are you complaining?" I asked.  
"Me? About your desire to have sex? _Never_," he said.

"That's what I thought," I said, smiling. He returned the smile and pushed himself slightly off the bed to kiss me. To make it easier for him I leaned down closer so he didn't have to strain himself. I kissed him back as passionately as I could, trying to only think of how much I loved him, and not how much I was going to miss him. I pried his mouth open with my tongue and of course he didn't resist. I explored his mouth with my tongue, loving the taste of him. I moaned in pleasure and pulled back, extracting my tongue from his mouth.

"This is going to be great," I said, panting.  
"The best," he agreed.

It had better be, I thought. It was going to be the only time I'd ever have sex with someone of my own free will. It had better be good. Seeing as I was going to have to look back on this encounter every time August touched me - just to keep from attempting to kill him. Because I would never feel for August what I felt for Will. Never.


	31. Desolate Girl

**Desolate Girl**

My hands were shaking, slicked with sweat, causing them to slip off of the steering wheel that I gripped so tightly. My heart was slamming away in my chest about a mile a minute, my breathing accelerated. I was parked in my car outside of Will's house, about to have a full scale panic attack. In all actuality, I didn't want to do this. Well, that wasn't one hundred percent true. I _did _want to do this, but I didn't want to _have _to - not now. It was too soon, I knew, but the clock was running out for me and Will. We barely had twenty-four hours before we'd be violently ripped apart forever.

Thinking about how little time we had left together was just enough incentive for me to man up and get out of the car. I killed the engine and numbly slipped out of the SUV, closing the door behind me and locking it. I made my way from the driveway, which was empty aside from my lone car, up the path to the front door. Taking a moment to compose myself, I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt and took a deep shaky breath. Once I felt that I was calm enough, I knocked on the door. There were no thoughts coming from inside, just the barking of Janie and the hissing of the kitten.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Will, wearing his pajamas of course, because, why would _Will _suddenly start caring about what other people thought? His multicolored hair was all mussed, and I noticed in a detached sort of way that his hair was getting longer. He didn't look as sickly as he had yesterday. His cheeks were no longer flushed and his eyes were no longer glassy. He had a stunning smile plastered on his face actually. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, the bottoms of which were being pawed at by the kitten who, as far as I knew, was still nameless.

"Would it kill you to dress up a bit when I'm coming over?" I quipped, swallowing my nervousness enough to be sarcastic.  
"Maybe it would," he returned, "And I know you wouldn't want me to risk my life over something so trivial."

That made me flinch a little. Thinking of Will's life on the line. It reminded me of why I was doing what I was about to do. Because it was the last chance that I would ever get. The thought sobered me so much that I pushed it away, out of fear that I would start crying if I thought about it too long.

"So are you going to let me in or would you prefer we do this on your porch?" I asked sarcastically, concentrating on how much I loved his smile and not how much I was going to miss it.  
"Well . . ." he trailed off mischievously.

"No," I said plainly.  
"In that case, come in," he said, moving aside to let me in. The tiny kitten hissed at me defensively as I pecked Will on the lips quickly.

"Jealous, are we?" I asked the kitten as Will closed the door.  
In response, the kitten hissed at me even more, backing up against Will's leg with her teeny tiny teeth bared at me.

"She doesn't like to share," Will told me, smiling at the little kitten and poking her with his foot, causing her to jump.  
I was torn between saying _'Neither do I' _and asking if he'd finally come up with a name for her. Both were tempting, but eventually curiosity won out. "Have you given her a name yet?" I asked.

"I'm working on it," he said.  
"Still?" I asked, sounding surprised when really, I wasn't. Will got really obsessive about things that he deemed 'important.'

"It'll come to me," he promised.  
"Sure it will," I muttered.

"Come on," he said, encircling my hand in his, "I want to show you something in my room."  
"What _kind _of something?" I asked mischievously.

"Not _that _you little pervert. I actually have something to show you," he said, rolling his eyes, "You know, you're a lot dirtier then most people would believe."  
"That's because most people don't know me as well as you do," I said. I'd said those words with a smile on my face, but the more I thought about it, the more depressed I became by this phrase. It was true. _Nobody _knew me as well as Will did. And soon, I was going to have to leave him behind forever - the only person who understood me, the only person I would ever love.

I was silent as he led me into his room, somber thoughts running through my mind. I tried to push them aside but it was difficult, and I only half succeeded. I still didn't say anything as he led me inside his room and closed the door behind him, shutting it right before his kitten could get inside. I could hear her mewling on the other side of the door, scratching at it. We were alike, me and her, I mused, in a way. We both loved Will. We both wanted to be with him always. But neither of us could be with him all the time. But, at least she didn't have to rip out his heart and stomp on it right in front of him, against her own free will.

"Sit," he told me and I did so, sitting on his bed with my back against his pillow, as he went over to his desk and riffled through some papers. I let my gaze wander around his room, analyzing his art work. God, I loved his art work. It expressed all the sides of him - the sides he didn't show to everybody. His deep side - the side I was sure only I knew about. And then the fun side - the one everybody knew about.

The ones that showed his fun side were the cartoons, all colorful and lively. Bunnies in space ships and dinosaur-unicorn hybrids. Drawings that sounded suspiciously like the things he talked about when he was stoned - making me wonder if maybe he _did _remember the things he said when he was high. But either way, the reasoning behind those drawings was simple to decode - amusement.

And then there were drawings that weren't so easily understood. There were detailed works of wild animals, fallen angels, mythical monsters, and gorgeous oceans. There were plenty of those, all done in pencil, tacked up on the wall, framing his window. There were a few drawings in particular that stood out to me. There was one of a little boy, sitting in the grass with a match in his hand as he watched a butterfly desperately flap it's flaming wings. And another of a powerful looking lion with bared fangs, inside of a cage, it's posture giving the impression that it was pacing; it's eyes screamed that the animal felt trapped.

And then, there was the one that spoke to me the most.

It was of a boy, a teenager really, sitting underneath a desk with his legs pulled up to his chest. His sleeve was pulled up to his elbow, to reveal his wrist, which was covered in tiny bruises and long scrapes. He was looking down, his long hair flopping into his eyes, leaving only the bottom half of his face visible. His lips were set in a grim line and his head was tilted towards his arm. In his other hand he held a syringe.

"Here it is," Will said, snapping me out of my contemplations as he came and sat down next to me, a piece of thick parchment in his hand. He handed it to me and I nearly gasped when I looked at it more closely. It was a drawing, colored in with water colors. The girl in the picture was me - that much was obvious. The tan skin and long dark hair made it obvious enough - but even the facial features were spot on. I wasn't wearing my glasses, and my hair wasn't up either. I was wearing a simple white toga like dress with a gold rope around the waist, a crown of turquoise and gold peacock feathers on my head. I was sitting on the ground, with my legs curled up in front of me, pulled against my body. Laying next to me was a majestic lion, it's paws out in front of it like sphynx and it's head up; it's ears perked up in attention. My hand rested atop it's head as it gazed at me protectively. But, off to the side and slightly in the middle ground, there was a large royal blue serpent, coiled and staring at me with greedy, blood red eyes. In the background was a rocky cliff, looking down at the turbulent waves of the sea. In the corner there was signature done in black paint, using a thin brush I imagined. It was the words _W. Sharp _in cursive.

I put my hand over my mouth, chocking on a silent sob, feeling as if I was going to cry. Ever since yesterday I'd constantly felt like I was on the verge of tears. This was just the sort of beautiful, romantic thing that would set me off - reminding me of how much Will cared for me and how much I was going to hurt him.

I'd never seen a painting with so much _emotion _in it. I felt like I could _feel _the protective gaze of the lion and the malicious gaze of the snake. I could even feel the sadness shown in my own persona's eyes, or maybe, I just imagined that, due to my own feelings.

"Do you like it?" Will asked after prolonged moment of my silence.  
"Like it?" I repeated, my voice thick, "No, not like. _Love. _I love it."

He beamed and that made the tears brewing behind my eyes more persistent. But I kept them at bay. "How did you . . ." I trailed off, thinking that if I continued I would burst out in tears.  
"I don't know," he said, guessing my next words but not sensing how genuinely distraught I was, "I was just thinking about you and the image just sort of popped into my head. Kind of like a vision, but not exactly."

I was silent again for a moment, studying the picture. For some reason, this painting meant so much to me. There was something about it, something I couldn't place at the time. It was more then just that Will had made it - but that made me love it right off the bat. But no . . . There was something more. Something deeper. This painting spoke to me in languages my mind didn't know, but my heart certainly did.

"Can I keep it?" I asked in a rough voice, my throat burning with the tears I refused to cry.  
"Of course you can," he said, "I made it for you."

"Thank you," I managed.  
"Nettie," he said after a pause, sounding concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I said, clearing my throat and placing my beloved painting on his nightstand, "I'm fine."  
"You sure?" he asked.

"Sure," I said and turned to him and suddenly, I was overcome with this wave of desire. I needed Will. I loved Will. I was _in love _with Will. And I needed to be as close to him as possible right then - before it was too late. Because time was running out faster then I'd ever dreamed possible.

Without hesitation, I pounced on him, attacking his lips with mine. He made a slightly startled sound, flinching, but after a few seconds he was kissing me back with just as much gusto. As my lips worked against his with desperate desire, he slowly leaned back against the bed, wrapping his arms around me, rubbing his hands over my back in soothing ways while I roughly knotted my fingers into his hair. I pulled my lips away from his and moved them down to his neck while he buried his face in my hair. Since he was always the one driving me crazy with his mouth, I figured I'd give it a try myself. So I ran my lips over his neck, peppering his jugular with kisses. I picked a spot and began to suck on the skin there. I'd never done this before, but I knew what to do regardless. I worked on that spot for a while before moving to another one, and then another one. Until his neck was adorned with four seperate hickeys.

As much fun as that had been, I couldn't stay away from his lips for long. I grabbed his chin and brought his face back to mine and he willingly obliged as I pressed my lips to his again. He ran his teeth over my lower lip, nibbling on it and teasing me. I moaned in pleasure, my body feeling overheated, as I began to desperately begin unbottoning my blouse. It was a little difficult to concentrate on those damned buttons while Will was teasing my mouth with his tongue, but I managed. Before removing my bra, I figured Will should loose his shirt. I broke the kiss for the briefest of seconds and helped him remove his t-shirt while his eyes were trained on my partially naked torso. My eyes, however, were practically _glued _to his bare chest. My hands slowly skimmed over his warm, hard bare upper body in appreciation before a wave of lust hit me, practically paralyzing me.

I smashed my lips against Will's with desperate need, forcing my tongue through his lips and into his warm mouth. He didn't seem to mind and his tongue responded to mine. I moaned in pleasure and desire as Will rolled us over so that he was on top. That just made me moan and groan some more. Red hot desire was burning through my veins, killing any rational thoughts, leaving me with only a thirst that I needed to quench. My hands slid down his torso to the top of his pants, gripping the waistband and about to tug them down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Will said as he pulled his lips from mine, "What are you doing?"  
"Didn't we talk about this?" I asked, pausing and forcing my mind to think coherently, "I thought we agreed that we were going to . . . you know."

"I didn't think you were _serious_," he said, "I thought you just wanted to screw around."  
"Isn't that what we're doing?" I quipped, breathing hard.

"Yeah but . . . But don't you want our first time to be more then just having fun?" he asked.  
A distant part of my mind was thinking that if I was the old Amunet I would have said _'What else is there?' _But I knew that wasn't true now. I wasn't her anymore. I wasn't the ice queen. I was Nettie.

I was a real person. A real person who knew that there was much more to life then I'd ever known. There was love. So much love that it hurt - so much love that it could make you cry tears of joy and sorrow at the same time. The kind of love that made you know nothing - because you _felt _everything. Feelings were the only kind of thing that this sort of love allowed.

"Yes but . . ." I stammered, "But . . . You said that we would."  
"I know I did," he said, running his fingers through my hair, "And I didn't mean to lie to you. I just didn't think you were serious."

"So you _don't _want to have to sex with me?" I asked, my voice cracking.  
"Oh Nettie it's not that I don't _want _to," he said, staring into my eyes while he cupped my face in his hand, "Trust me, I want to. But more then that, I want what we have to mean something, you know? I mean, I _really_ care about you Nettie. And I don't want our relationship to just be about sex. You understand right?"

"Right . . .right," I mumbled, my voice thick as I felt tears burning behind my eyes. "I'll - I'll be right back. I need a-a minute." I scrambled out from under him and rushed to the door, not bothering to pick my shirt off of the floor. I threw the door open, nearly stepping on the kitten in my haste to get out of there. She made her unhappiness vocal by hissing at me, but I ignored her. My vision was blurring as I blindly ran for the bathroom, stubbing my toe on the side of the couch in the process. I finally made it to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it before allowing my legs to crumple underneath me as I collapsed onto the cool tiled floor.

A torrent of tears fell from my eyes then. I hunched in on myself, sobbing and shaking, as I allowed myself to cry for the first time in five years. I hadn't cried since I was eleven but now that I'd started, I knew there was no chance of me stopping. My legs were folded next to me just like they were in Will's painting, although I knew I looked nothing like that; crying on the bathroom floor in my skirt and bra like I was. My head was bowed as hot tears rolled down my cheeks and off my chin, leaving little dark spots on my skirt. My hands were folded in my lap, my hair falling around my face like a curtain. My vision was blurred with tears, my body shaking, my throat burning, as racking sobs escaped my lips.

Some may wonder what had been so horrible in that last exchange to make me, Amunet Lamorte, sob with such vehemence. It was because this was my last day with Will. The last day of the best days of my life. Without Will I was nothing. Without Will I would resort back to being a heartless harpy. I _needed _Will. He was my other half. I'd gone through almost seventeen years of my life, miserable, thinking that I was content to be bitter forever. But then I'd met Will, and he completed me. He made me feel things I'd never felt before. He made me feel love. He made me whole.

And I couldn't go back to being half of a person anymore. The greeks had believed that the reason we have two legs, two arms, two eyes, two ears, but only one heart was that there was someone out there who possessed our other heart. And we had to spend our whole lives searching for that person - our other half. Well I'd found my other half - without even knowing I was searching. But now that I'd found my other half and was _finally _happy - he was going to be ripped away from me. The mere _thought _of this happening was as painful as if someone had actually lopped off one of my arms or my legs, or gouged out one of my eyes. The only thing more painful that that thought was the thought of Will dying. It was the only thing that could drive me to separate myself from my other half.

A distant part of my mind whispered to me. _"You're in too deep. You've lost your mind." _And I knew it was true. I was in too deep. I was neck deep in quicksand with no hope of ever getting out. I was head over heels in love with Will and nothing - nothing in the whole world - could keep me from feeling this way. And as for loosing my mind, that wasn't exactly true. I hadn't lost my mind - I'd given it up. I'd given it to Will - just like I wanted to give everything else I had to him. Besides, I didn't need a mind. A mind was for thoughts and cold calculations. I didn't need that. I had a heart now. A heart that could feel and love. But it could also break. And that's what it was doing right then. Breaking.

I continued to cry and sob in pain and sorrow, ignorant to how long I'd been in here. But I decided that it must have been a while, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. And then there was Will's voice. Even in this pit of despair I was currently residing in, Will's voice spoke to me in a secret language that only the two of us knew. His voice was like the chorus of a thousand angels to me. It lifted my spirits momentarily before sending me into an even more intense spiral - reminding me that, after today, that voice would never speak kindly to me again.

"Nettie," he said, sound frantic, "Nettie are you okay? What's wrong?"  
I tried to speak but all I could do was mumble unintelligibly, my voice stolen by the sobs that racked my body.

"Nettie. I'm coming in," he said and I could hear the lock on the door being undone, with the use of telekinesis no doubt. I looked up at Will as he stepped in. I could barely see him through the tears that blurred my vision. I wanted to stop crying, desperately wanted to, but I couldn't.

"Oh my God, are you crying?" he asked. Whenever people had said that to me as a child, it had been in ridicule - other children finding enjoyment in my tears. But Will didn't sound amused at all. He sounded surprised but more then that, he sounded worried and upset.

He sunk down to the floor next to me and I tried to speak but all I could do was sob. He pulled me into his arms and I cried against his bare shoulder. The tears were coming in even more powerful torrents now, now that I was pressed against his warm body. Because now I was being cruelly reminded of what I was giving up. The only person who cared about me. The only person who'd ever held me when I cried - aside from my mother, who was never much for comfort in the first place.

"Nettie, Nettie baby what's wrong?" he asked as he stroked my hair and held my head against his shoulder, "Why are you crying?"  
"I - I - I - ca- I can-" I tried to say and ultimately failed, my sobs making speech impossible.

"Shhhhhh," he crooned, deciding I couldn't answer, "It's alright. I'm here. I'm sorry."  
I didn't know what he was apologizing for, but it wasn't like I could ask. All I could do was cry and sob and shake.

"Are you crying because I won't sleep with you?" he guessed, "It's not that I don't want you Nettie. You're beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. In my eyes, you'll always be perfect. You're an angel. A goddess. And I want you so badly. But I told you, I think it's too early for sex. I know that sounds weird coming from a guy. But we've only been going out for two weeks and . . . And it won't be as special if we rush into it. Don't you want our first time together to be special?"

_"There isn't going to be a first time for us," _I thought, _"This is our last chance." _That thought just made the tears fall harder. But, I knew that I had to explain my tears to him somehow, if I wanted our last day together to be a memorable one. So, I pulled away from his shoulder a bit and nodded as I stared into his gorgeous stormy grey eyes - wishing I could spend the rest of my life on this bathroom floor with him.

"So that _is _why you're upset?" he checked. I nodded again. It wasn't true. I didn't feel rejected at all. I knew Will wouldn't lie to me about that. I'd seen his desire for me first hand. But I needed to explain away these tears if I wanted to salvage this day.

"But you understand now?" he asked, "You understand that I didn't mean to hurt your feelings?"  
I nodded slowly, biting my lip as tears continued to fall.

"Then why are you still crying beautiful?" he asked in a soft voice.  
"I - I . . . I don't k-know. I h-haven't cried in so-so long. I - I - I don't know how to s-stop," I half lied, still shaking with sobs.

"Well you have to stop," he said, his eyes seeming to glisten with unshed tears, "Cause if you don't stop crying then _I'm _going to start crying."  
"I - I c-can't stop," I sobbed.

"Don't worry Nettie," he soothed as he kissed away the tears that continued to fall from my cheeks, "I'll help you. I'll make you feel better. Today is all about you, alright? I'll get you a mocha and some McDonald's french fries, and we'll watch all your favorite movies. And we'll spend the rest of the day together on the couch. I'll even keep my shirt off."

I laughed once, but it sounded a little like a sob. Only Will could make me laugh when I felt like I was going to die.  
"Would you like that?" Will asked, continuing to kiss away my tears, but it felt as if he was really kissing away the pain. Or, at least trying to.

"Y-yeah," I managed in a rough voice, wiping my eyes, "I would like that."  
"Good," he said, decorating the area under each of my eyes with little butterfly kisses, "I don't think I could handle seeing you cry anymore. It makes me want to cry."

"I - I don't want to make you cry," I said, my voice cracking. "Not ever." The worst part of saying that was knowing that I had to - knowing that I was going to have to make him cry tomorrow. I was going to have to break his heart and I was going to have to make it hurt for real. I was going to have to say whatever I had to say to reduce him to tears - to make him feel pain like I'd just felt. Maybe even more - if that was what it took to make him cry and shake with sobs.

Or else, he'd die


	32. Mean Girl

**Mean Girl**

Sometimes you just know how an event is going to play out before it even happens. This was not one of those times.

I was sitting on my bed early Saturday, staring at nothing with bleary eyes. It was only three in the morning, an unholy hour to be awake, but I couldn't sleep. There were too many thoughts churning around in my head . . . Too much torment brewing inside of me. I wanted desperately to sleep - to escape this torture. But my subconscious refused to subside long enough to allow me the sweet bliss of unconsciousness. Instead it forced me into this unrelenting agony that was total awareness.

I couldn't help but think of what I had to do today. I had to break Will's heart. I had to break the bond between myself and the only person who I'd ever been connected to. And once I did it, it couldn't be undone. Once the bond was broken it couldn't be repaired. The damage was irrevocable. The rift I would create between us would last us a life time. Even, if by some miracle, I was able to free us from August's evil influence, Will would never forgive me for ripping out his heart and stomping on it right in front of him. The rift between us would last forever.

And that was the worst part. Knowing that once I made Will hate me he was going to hate me forever. I was no stranger to hate. Plenty of people hated me - in fact, most people hated me. They said a lot of bad things about me but thought even worse. And yes, the hate hurt me. I'd hardened over the years but the pain never goes away. After sixteen years of people telling me they hated me, over an over and _over _again, the message had started to sink in. It was easy to believe that everybody hated me - that I was a horrid being, incapable of loving and incapable of being loved.

But then I'd met Will. And he'd shown me that I wasn't the soulless monster I thought I was. He showed me what it was like to have fun, what it was like to have someone care about you, what it was like to live. He showed me that I was a real person - a real person who could bleed and live and laugh and cry. A real person who _could_ love and _did _love.

Will had brought me to life - Will was my savior. And now, after today, he was going to hate me. Just like everybody else. It was different this time though. Looking back, I didn't care what those people thought or said or did. They didn't know me - not like Will did. Will knew me and cared for me . . . And now he was going to hate me forever and ever and ever. I loved him and he would never love me back - not after today.

They say it is better to have loved and to have lost then have never to loved at all. I can't say I agree. On the one hand, if I'd never loved Will, I'd still be the Ice Queen. But on the other hand, at least I wouldn't be in so much pain.

I kept tormenting myself. All I could do was go through different scenarios of today's events in my head. I kept trying to guess how Will would react. I must have gone over a thousand different possible reactions, but none of them seemed right. I knew Will enough to love him but not enough to predict his behavior. He wasn't the kind of person who could be worked out and understood like a math problem. Will was not an equation - he was an abstract painting. There was no logic to Will - just beauty.

One of the things I loved about Will was how unpredictable he was. But at that moment, I wished I could peer into a crystal ball and see the future. I wanted to know how Will would react to me breaking his heart - so I could be prepared. Because at the moment, I had no idea what I was going to do. Which meant I was going to have to wing it and wait until the actual event.

Which left me with a lot of time to myself . . . A lot of time to wallow in agony and self hate. It wasn't a very appealing proposition. I was going to have plenty of time to be miserable once I broke up with Will - an entire life time. But still . . . I didn't know what else to do besides wallow. All I wanted to do was sleep. But I couldn't. I couldn't sleep - couldn't escape this gruesome fate.

In the end, I ended up doing exactly what I'd been doing since I'd arrived home some five hours ago - I moped. I laid in my bed, with the lights on, staring at the ceiling and thinking of how my life was like a ticking time bomb about to go off. For the time being, everything seemed perfect, but in a few short hours it would implode.

I ended up passing out around four in the morning or so. I awoke at eight to the shrill cries of my alarm clock and an empty house. Once I turned off my alarm clock I blinked into the bright light. I felt like hell. Absolute hell. My eyes stung, my body felt heavy, and my throat felt as if I had dry swallowed rusty nails. I coughed and slid off of my rumpled but made bed. I glanced at my alarm clock, which claimed it to be eight in the morning. I was running out of time - I had to break up with Will before August hurt him.

Rubbing my eyes, I grabbed my cell off my nightstand and texted Will, telling him to come over. To my surprise, he immediately texted back saying he'd be there in a half an hour. I had seriously expected him to be asleep at eight on a Saturday morning. I wondered vaguely what he was doing up so early but I let the thought drop quickly; what did it matter anyway?

I began to prepare for my day in a fog - my thoughts swirling with melancholy and anxiousness. I felt very detached from myself as I got dressed in a pair of plain black jeans and a black button up blouse. I wasn't the kind of person who dressed in all black - but today colors seemed highly inappropriate. Once I was dressed I combed my hair for about five seconds before throwing it into a messily done bun. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and threw on my glasses. I'd made no attempt to dress up.

I considered going downstairs to wait for Will but decided not to. I would just feel even more lonely in that big open space down there. At least up in my room I felt a little less lonely - closed in by four square walls. My mother was away on a 'buisness trip' leaving me with the house to myself all the weekend. Earlier this week, the thought had excited me, thinking Will and I would have the house all to ourselves for two whole days. Now, the prospect of spending the entire weekend alone in this crypt made my stomach roll.

Although I was starving, I sat down on my bed and stared out my window. It was a beautiful day out. The sky was clear, the sun shining, and the trees just starting to sprout leaves. I could hear birds chirping - having just migrated back north for spring. The whole scene made me feel even more bitter. How could the world be so cheery while I was so miserable? How could the sun shine on the worst day of my life?

If it hadn't been for August - this would have been the best day ever. Nice and sunny out, mom gone for the weekend, Will coming over. It would have been perfect. We could have had a pinic, or gone to the park, or even drove down to that amusement park Aaron had been talking out. And then we could have gotten McDonald's for dinner or I could have tried to convince him to let me take him somewhere fancy. And then he could have spent the night - lied to his mom that he was at his dad's - and we could have gotten drunk while we had another movie night.

It would have been perfect - it _should _have been perfect. Everything would be perfect if it wasn't for August. Suddenly I was filled with intense rage. I _hated _August. More then I hated anybody else on the planet. More then I hated Mrs. Brooks, or Kristy, or even Will's dad. I hated August with every fiber of my being, every ounce of my mind, every part of my soul. He was a vile, cruel, sick, demented, evil creature. He was a monster - a true monster. And I would never love him.

I jumped off the bed at a sound from downstairs - Will letting himself in, based on the absence of thoughts. I stood there, frozen, as I listened to him clamber upstairs. His footsteps echoed ominously through the empty house as he got closer and closer to my room. The sound was like the ticking of a bomb, or the swinging of a pendulum, or grains of sand as they passed through the neck of an hourglass. It meant time was running out.

When Will finally reached my room all he did was knock on the door twice and say "Nettie?" But to me, it was like a huge catastrophic explosion. Like a bomb going of, or a tidal wave crashing against the shore, or a house caving in. It was like the end of the world - the end of my world. Now that Will was here . . . There was no turning back. Time had run out.

"Come in," I called blandly, my voice sounding like that of a middle-aged chain smoker. I clear my throat as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. I studied him intently as he entered. Something I didn't do often anymore. I usually just enjoyed his presence as opposed to observing it. But I decided I had to drink in every bit of him now, while he was still mine. He was dressed in worn jeans with a hole in the knee, and a grey t-shirt underneath a loose maroon sweatshirt. His shaggy dark brown hair was a little disheveled as always, the colorful tips reminding me of a tropical bird or fish. Hickeys decorated his neck - four to be exact. I was used to seeing marks on him so I let my eyes wander to his face. Oh, how I loved his gorgeous face. His skin was a delicate cream color, flawless over his flawless features. As per usual, his beautiful eyes commanded my attention. Those stormy grey eyes, framed by those sooty dark lashes that brushed against his high cheekbones when he blinked.

His beauty made my chest constrict, but I felt even worse when he smiled. His full lips were spread into the most stunning of smiles, revealing all of his pearly white teeth. I wanted to cry seeing him smile such a brilliant smile - knowing that he was smiling because of me. Knowing that I was going to have to wipe that smile right off his face. Knowing that I was going to have to kill it.

"Hey Nettie," he said easily but I noticed an undercurrent of . . . excitement. He seemed happier then usual - like he was anticipating something very pleasant. I had no idea what and I almost didn't want to find out. Whatever it was that was making him so happy . . . He wouldn't care about when I ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

"Hey baby," I mumbled in a very quiet voice. I never called Will by any sort of pet name but I felt the need to make an exception today.  
His smile grew and my heart panged. He crossed the distance between us and slipped his arms around my waist, catching my lips in a kiss. A part of me didn't want to kiss him - because this would be our last kiss and that was just so . . . final. But another, more dominant, part of me wanted to kiss him more then anthing else in the world. Wanted to be close to him just one last time.

But suddenly, the room seemed to get colder. Even with my eyes closed, I knew that the room had gotten slightly darker - as if the clouds had moved in front of the sun. A menacing sound like a hissing snake weaved through the air like a leaf blowing in the breeze. Shivering, I pulled away from Will in alarm and opened my eyes. The room was certainly darker. Outside, dark clouds had started to roll in, which hadn't been in today's forecast. Several of those black inky shadows I'd been seeing slithered through the room. Will didn't seem to notice - he was staring at me in confusion.

I followed one of the shadows with my eyes as it floated above my desk and began to take the outline of a sitting person. I stared, transfixed, as it morphed into August - quick as lightning. To be honest, I shouldn't have been surprised that August was involved with the whole shadow thing. It was obvious that he wasn't human, nor did I think he was an energy vampire, but he was obviously _something_.

He was just sitting there on my desk, seeming totally relaxed. He was leaning against the wall, his feet resting on the surface of my desk. He had a smirk on his lips and he looked amused. But none of that was really relavant to me. My eyes were drawn to the wicked knife he held in his hands. It was a long knife, the kind intended to be used as a weapon and not to cut poultry. It had a black handle with strange carvings on it that reminded me of hieryoglyphics. He was polishing it with a black cloth and when he caught me staring at it, he grinned.

I stood there, frozen, waiting. Waiting for Will to freak out. Because, why wouldn't he be freaked out that August had suddenly materalized in my room with a knife, and that he'd arrived in such an ominious way - like the wicked witch of the west. I kept waiting for the inevitable freak out that was bound to happen, but it never ddi. Will even looked _right at _August, having followed my gaze there. But he quickly looked away as if he'd seen nothing of interest.

"What's wrong Nettie?" he asked, seeming confused.  
My head snapped back to look at August. _"He can't see me," _he said in a voice that slithered through the air like a snake, a voice that was meant for me alone, _"No on can see me unless I want them to." _

This creeped me out marginally, but it also confused me. I would say that he had the power to be invisible, but then how could he select who could see him and who couldn't? And it seemed as if he was using telepathy to speak to my mind only - but his lips moved when he spoke and words came out. Will just didn't hear them. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Nettie," Will said again, snapping me out of my haze.  
"What?" I asked automatically.

"Are you okay?" he asked, "Is something wrong."  
My eyes slid over to August who grinned maliciously at me. _"Hop to it love," _he said, _"Or else." _When he said the last part, his eyes strayed pointedly to the knife in his hands.

Slowly, I turned back to face Will, who looked very concerned. I closed my eyes and steeled myself. I had to do this. It killed me to have to hurt Will, but I had to. For his own good. Or August would kill him - he'd already made it clear that he wasn't afraid of hurting people. If I wanted to keep Will safe, I had to break his heart. Make him hate me. Make sure August had no reason to go after him. And the best way to do that was to make Will hate me so much that he would never come near me again - never challenge August's claim on me.

"Yes," I said in a cold voice, summoning the old Amunet back to me, "Something's wrong. Something's very wrong."  
"What is it Net?" he asked, taking a step closer.

I took a step back. "We're wrong," I told him bluntly.  
"What are you talking about?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Us," I said, gesturing sharply back and forth between us, "We're wrong. Us being together is wrong. _It's not working_."  
"Wait - are you _breaking up with me_?" he asked, sounding astounded.

"Took you long enough to figure that one out Sherlock," I snapped cruelly. Off to the side, August laughed, and I wanted to stab him. This wasn't funny. This wasn't a joke. This was hell.  
"But . . . _Why_?" Will asked, seeming totally lost, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Besides being a stupid pretty boy stoner? Nope, nothing comes to mind," I said with mock thoughtfullness. Truly, I hated myself for saying that, but the faster I made him cry, the better.  
He flinched but still, he seemed more confused then anything else. "This . . . this doesn't make any sense," he said, scrunching his eyebrows, "Everything was going great."

"Great? _Please_," I scoffed.  
"I . . . don't understand," he trailed off in confusion.

"I guess all those drugs are messing with your head. Or maybe Daddy hit you just a little too hard this time," I sneered hatefully while August laughed.  
"Is that what this is about?" he asked, "The drugs? Or is it about my dad?"

"It doesn't matter what it's about," I said, "It's over. _We'_re over. I'm breaking up with you."  
"Nettie, don't do this," he said, finally realizing that I was completely serious. His eyes were filled with desperation.

"Too late," I snapped, "I already am."  
"Nettie _please,_" he begged, grabbing hold of my hand and staring at me with eyes that were glassy with unshed tears, "_Please _don't do this. I'll do anything, I swear."

"Stop groveling," I snapped at him, pulling my hand away from him, "It's pathetic." I hated myself. I really did. I hated myself for being such a good actress, and I hated myself for being so good at being a bitch. But more then I hated myself, I hated August. I let my eyes slide over to glare at him murderiously. He stared back at me with a huge smile on his face. I turned away from him in disgust and trained my eyes back on Will. He looked totally desperate, his eyes shining with tears he wasn't yet shedding. I was so close to making him cry - I just needed something more - something big. The final nail in the coffin.

"I don't care," he said, "I mean it. I'll do anything - anything to make you stay. Just _please _don't leave me. I don't know what I'd do without you . . . Anything you want, _anything, _I'll do it. I'll tell my mom about my dad and stepbrothers - I'll even tell the guidance counselor, the police, a social worker. I'll tell everybody. And the drugs? Forget about it. I'll go cold turkey, I'll go to rehab. I won't even drink anymore. Anything you want - you can have it. I'll do anything. Just please, _please _don't leave me."

"You _are _pathetic," I snarled, "You're pathetic because you care so much about me when you _never meant anything to me. _I was only _using _you to get to August. You're even more stupid then I thought if you actually believed that I cared about you. I _never_ cared about you. You were a pawn to me. Hell, you were a toy to me. Fun to play with while I waited for August to come to his senses and realize how perfect we would be together. And he finally did - on Thursday. But I figured I'd wait it out one more day, see if I could seal the deal with you and get a little action. I _thought _it would be simple, since everybody is always saying how _easy _you are. Unfortunately though, you randomly decided to become a prude so . . . You are no longer of any use to me."

Every single word I'd just said was a lie - a huge lie. And I hated myself for saying those horrible lies to him. But it was the only way. I had to be as cruel as possible and make him cry. Because once I made him cry, I could stop being so cruel to him. He would be crushed and hate me and he'd never come near me again - and then he'd be safe from August.

But Will wasn't crying. His eyes were still glassy, but after my little speech he seemed more confused and disbelieving then anything else. His mouth hung open. "What the _fuck?" _he demanded.  
"Don't make me repeat myself," I said in a flat voice because, really, I couldn't bring myself to say those awful words again.

"None of that makes _any _sense!" he ranted, "You expect me to believe that our whole relationship was a lie? That's fucking ridicilious! We _connected _Nettie. You can't fake emotions like that. You go out of your way to try and get me away from my dad all the time - you wouldn't do that if you didn't genuinly care about me. Hell, yesterday you _cried _in front of me. Am I suppose to believe _that_ was an act too?"

I'd miscalculated. I'd expected him to be so upset over my speech about August that he wouldn't try and reason things out. I had underestimated Will. He was better able to remain rational in this emotional situation then I'd expected him to be able to. But that was a problem. I couldn't let him think this out. If he did, he would realize how ludicrious it was. Hell, he already had. Now I had to do damage control. I had to be as _cruel _and _mean _and just plain _heartless _as I possibly could be. I had to crush him with emotions - blind him with them. That way, he wouldn't try to reason all of this out.

"God you're so fucking stupid!" I shouted, hoping this would be the nail in the coffin, "Jesus _Christ! _What do I have to say to get rid of you? I don't care about you! Understand? I don't care about you and I _never did. _I pretended to like you to make August jealous and then I kept it going so I could have sex with you. I can't believe that you _actually _believe I liked you for you. That's a _laugh! _Me . . . _Liking _you? _Caring _about you? How could _anybody ever _care about you for _you_? You're a dumb as rocks, whorey, thoughtless _drug addict _with _no future!_"

He flinched, looking genuinly hurt. A tear escaped his eye but I knew that August wouldn't be appeased by that. He wanted me to make Will _really _cry. I couldn't believe that I had to keep doing this. How long would it take to make Will cry for real? At this point, I was just about ready to start crying.

"You - you don't mean that," he said softly, but he didn't sound convinced.  
"I _do!" _I yelled the horrendous lie, "I meant _every word! _I don't _like _you and I don't _care _about you. All I want is for you is to get that through your _thick skull _and leave me the fuck alone!"

"You . . . you can't mean any of that . . ." he mumbled in a small voice, sounding like he was in denial, "You - you can't mean any of that."  
"For the love of _Christ, _what do I have to say to get rid of you?" I demanded loudly. Wishing desperately that he would just cry so this torture could end.

"Nettie . . . You can't mean any of that . . . Because . . . Because," he stammered, a few more tears escaping his eyes.  
"Because _why _Will?" I shouted, "Go ahead, _enlighten _me! _Why_ can't I mean it!"

"Because . . . because I love you," he said.

Tears burned behind my eyes. Will loved me. He really really loved me. Will was in love with me. And I was in love with Will. We were in love. It had been enough for me just to have Will care about me. But to have him _love _me. That was major. Besides my mother, nobody else in the entire world really _loved _me. But now . . . Will did. Will loved me. Will was in love with me. This should have been the best day of my life. . . .But it wasn't. It was the worst.

_"Finish him," _August said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw his knife glint in the light, _"Or I will." _I knew what he meant by that. This was my last chance. I had to make Will cry or August would kill him - right in front of me. This was my last chance. I had to finish Will off. _This _would be the last nail in the coffin. After this, Will would never forgive me.

_"I will NEVER love you!" _I screamed at him. It was the biggest lie I had ever told.

All of his denials failed him then, it was clear on his face. It was also clear that his whole world was crumbling around him. His face . . . He just looked completely devastated and shocked. Like the face of someone who just witnessed a horrible accident. No . . . It was worse then that. It was the face of someone who just saw the love of their life being killed in a horrible accident. He looked _destroyed. _And his eyes . . . They were ten times worse. They were full of pain and loss and heartbreak, overflowing with tears. They fell freely from his bloodshot grey eyes, streaming down his cheeks.

He was crying hard enough so that August would be appeased, yet, I kept going. I was looking at Will but really, I was talking to August. "Did you hear me! I don't love you! I'll _never _love you!" I screamed, openly crying now, "_Nobody _will ever love you! Nobody _could _ever love you! You're a _horrible _person! You're rotten and selfish and _evil! _I _hate _you! I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you! _Did you hear that! **I HATE you!" **

"I heard you," Will said, his voice cracking but bitter, "Loud and clear."  
"Then get _out!_" I screamed, overflowing with hate and sorrow and raw emotion, "Get _out _of my house!"

Sobbing, I grabbed hold of the closest item to me - which happened to be the jewelry box on my dresser. I flung it in his direction, letting it hit the wall and spew my jewelery everywhere. "Get OUT!" I screamed as I cried, "I _hate _you! Get OUT! I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you!_"

Will stared at me, eyes wide and glassy, face streaked with tears, expression devastated but angry. I'd obviously succeeded in my mission. Not only had I made him cry, but I'd also made him hate me. It was clear by the look on his face; he hated me for breaking his heart.

"Well then I guess it's _happy birthday _to me," he snarled before turning and leaving, slamming the door behind him so hard that the whole wall rattled.

Once he was gone, I sunk to the floor and sobbed. I felt more miserable then I had ever felt in my entire life. I'd just broken the heart of the man I loved . . . On his _birthday. _He was going to hate me. The man I loved would now hate me for all eternity. And now, for the rest of my life, I would be miserable and alone. It was a devastating thought. So powerful in it's devastation that I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't pick myself off of the floor - nor did I want to. I wanted to stay there forever. I sat there for hours, crying my eyes out, and August just watched me, making no move to comfort me. Because, no matter what he said, he didn't really love me. Not like Will did. Not like Will used to.


	33. Dead Girl

**Dead Girl**

My first response to my breakup with Will was grief. I had to mourn. Not the loss of Will though. Will was still very much alive and still very much close to me. No, it was not the loss of Will that I had to mourn. I had to mourn the loss of myself. Will still meant everything to me, but I now meant nothing to him. If I was nothing to Will then I was nothing to myself. And if I was dead to Will, then I was dead in every sense of the word.

I'd once doubted the truth in the statement _It is better to have loved and to have lost then never to have loved at all. _But now, I was sure that it was a complete lie. I'd rather have spent my whole life empty and incomplete then experience such intense pain. It was like someone had sewed up a wound in my chest, only to rip the stitches out violently immediately after. The initial pain had been nothing compared to the pain of having been repaired only to be broken again.

The pain was unlike anything. I'd never experienced agony like this before. Physical pain couldn't compare. Broken bones and bruises - they were nothing compared to the torture of being thrashed senselessly by your own love. Cuts and scratches - they were nothing compared to the agony of having your beating heart ripped to shreds. Physical injuries could be mended or sewed, bandaged and healed. But not pain like this - not agony of the soul. These wounds could not be healed - these scars would last a lifetime. Because when you got your heart broken, you didn't bleed blood - you bled your life essence, your very soul out, all over the floor.

My pain was made even worse by my guilt. I'd caused this - I had broken up with Will. I was responsible for my own heartbreak. And not just mine, Will's too. Everything I was experiencing . . . He had to be experiencing ten fold. Not only had he lost his soul mate as I had, he'd also been convinced that his soul mate didn't love him - that she thought him incapable of love - that she _hated _him. He must have wanted to die - and the guilt that brought me only added to my agony.

I was so full of self hatred - I was overflowing with it. I hated myself. Not just for what I'd done for Will, but for what I'd done to myself. I'd ruined my own life. For some reason, I was incapable of being happy. Everywhere I went, I'd always been miserable. But then I'd come to Hollow Creek - and I'd met Will - and I'd been happy. More then happy, I'd been in heaven. But then I'd messed it up. I'd ruined it. I'd brought paradise crashing down around me. I really was a monster.

Because, obviously, all of this was my fault. There had to be a reason August wanted me so badly. I had to have done something to provoke it. The reason was clear to me. I was a monster, and therefore, attracted other monsters. It was no secret. Everybody had seen it - the way August and I were so alike. My cruel nature had drawn this hateful, unholy creation to me. I had no one to blame but myself. I had no one else to blame for my suffering.

And suffering was without a doubt what I was doing. I was collapsed on my bed, crying my eyes out. My body shook with my sobs, my sheets soaked with my tears. I couldn't seem to do anything but cry and wallow in my misery. It's what I'd been doing for over twenty four hours. Doing anything else seemed not only unappealing, but also inappropriate. My love, my life, my _everything _had been brutally murdered in front of my eyes. It was disrespectful not only to myself, but to Will, to do anything else but mourn our lost love.

As I sobbed and grieved, I stared out my window. A violent storm had fallen upon Hollow Creek yesterday morning and had continued through the night into today. I was almost glad for the storm. If it had been sunny out it would have made me feel worse - knowing that the world was going on, happy and care free, while my world was crashing down around me. I preferred the raging thunderstorm - it was like a sign that the world was mourning right along with me.

The storm was like a reflection of my inner turmoil. The rain drops that streaked my window were a mirror of the tears that streaked my cheeks. The flashes of lightning were like the fire in my eyes that burned with hatred and passion. The howling wind that shook trees with mighty force was like the insatiable rage that twisted my insides. The booming thunder was an echo of my cries of desolation and anger.

These emotions were starting to eat at me though. I felt sick - just lying there and sobbing - inactive. I needed to do something. Something to express my inner most turmoil. I picked myself off of the bed, after having lied there for over a day, and went over to my IPod dock. I selected my playlist of particularly violent, angry songs. The first song that came on was _Left Here _by Throw The Fight. It seemed highly appropriate, even though, at the time, anything loud and angry was appropriate. I cranked the volume up so high that it drowned out the silence of the empty house and the thunder from outside.

I went over to my closet and pulled Will's sweatshirt off of the hanger. It was bright red - the color of fresh blood. He'd left it here a few days ago and I'd forgotton to give it back. Now, I was glad I had. I pulled it on over my shirt and zippered it all the way up to my neck. It was long on me and hung off my wrists but I thought it was perfect. I wrapped my arms around myself - reveling in the warmth and feeble security the sweatshirt brought. It smelled like Will. Like pot smoke, _Snickers, _and booze. But more then that. It smelled like _Will. _Like the earthy essence that always covered his skin - although often masked by the smell of smoke and alcohol. I breathed deeeply and closed my eyes, pretending for a moment that what I smelled was really Will - that he was really here. But when I opened my eyes, I was still alone in my room.

The tears falling from my eyes left little dark spots on Will's sweatshirt as they landed on it. I sniffled and chocked on a sob as I made my way over to my desk, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. From my desk drawer I took out the picture Will had painted for me. I went back over to my bed and sat down, spreading it out in front of me. I ran my fingers delicately over the surface of the painting. It was so beautiful . . . Almost as beautiful as the love we had shared.

I looked around my room. There were pictures all over the place. Framed photographs of my mother and I on my desk and bedside table. Carefully arranged paintings on the my walls. Artful drawings on the covers of my many books. Pictures, pictures, everywhere. All horribly ugly in comparison to Will's painting. All ugly in comparison to our lost love.

Rage consumed me suddenly at thoughts of how my happiness had been so violently stolen from me. I'd been feeling angry all along of course, but the rage suddenly intensified. It was now equal to my grief. This anger was crushing. It was the kind of rage that consumed people - that drove people to do unspeakable crimes. But, at the moment, murder didn't seem so irrational. I was sure that if there had been another person in the house with me - I might have killed them out of blind rage.

I took my anger out on my room. I got to my feet, still crying, and went to my walls. I clawed each frame from the wall and smashed each against the floor, sobbing the entire time. The frames broke and sometimes shattered. After I broke each frame, I pulled the painting from underneath the broken glass, occasionally slicing my fingers. Once I had the painting safely out, I ripped it to shreds with passion. During this entire process, not once did I stop sobbing.

I was filled with a rage that was foreign to me. It was an anger so consuming that it drove me to destroy my bedroom. The rage was insatiable. It made me desperate - desperate to cause destruction. I just wanted to break things - to destroy things. To ruin them like love had ruined me.

Once all of the paintings were off the floor I made my way over to my desk. I tried to avoid the broken glass, but it was more out of an instinct then any real desire to not get hurt. Once I made it to my desk I grabbed a thumb tack and climbed on top of my bed. I grabbed Will's painting and padded over to the head of my bed. I held the painting against the wall and drove the tack through the top of it with all my strength. It didn't go in easily but eventually, the painting was secure above my bed.

I turned slowly to survey the rest of the room. Metal music filled the small space and rain splattered itself against the window. Glass and shredded paper covered the floors, and the walls were bare - except for the lone painting that hung above my head.

I sunk down from my perch and then got off of my bed. I felt desolate and empty for a moment - drained of all my anger. Numbly, with tears falling from my eyes, I made my way over to my mirror. I examined myself for a minute. My face was dead, my skin an unhealthy shade underneath my tan complexion. My hair was matted and fell past my red-clad shoulders in messy tangles. My eyes were bloodshot and vacant, outlined by dark tired shadows. Tears streaked my cheeks.

And all of a sudden, the anger came back. Looking at my horrid reflection caused hate to swell inside my broken heart. I _hated _myself. I really did. I was a horrible creature; incapable of loving or being loved. I'd ripped out the heart of the only person who'd ever really loved me. Maybe he was better off without me . . . But it didn't change the fact that I destroyed him.

"I _hate _you!" I screamed at my reflection, slamming my fist down on the mirror as hard as I could.

It broke. Not shattered. Broke. A section of it broke away under the blow. My hand went through the mirror, being sliced by the shards the whole way. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but nobody could hear it over the storm or the music. Not that there was anybody around to hear it anyway. I pulled my bleeding hand away from the mirror automatically and pressed it to my stomach, as I hunched in on myself and sobbed some more. God, I was such a fuck up.

After a minute, I pulled my hand away from my stomach to inspect it. It was smeared with blood, and in turn had smeared blood on Will's sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was practically the same shade of red as my fresh blood - making the blood almost unnoticeable against it. I stared at the colors for a minute. The bright red reminded me of Will. It had been the color of the tips of his hair when I'd first met him. He loved the color red. I'd always loved red too but all of sudden, colors seemed cruel to me. Colors were so perky and happy - nothing should be that cheery when I was this miserable.

On a whim, I went to my closet and began to tear colorful garments off the racks. I took as many as I could carry and ran from my room and downstairs. It was relatively dark down there, but I didn't bother turning on the lights. Lila looked up at me as I passed but I ignored her - going straight for the front door. I ran out onto the porch and threw my colorful clothes onto the soaked front lawn, letting the rain pour down.

I did this several times. Returning upstairs to get more colorful clothes before coming back down to throw them onto the lawn. Finally, when all color had been drained from my closet and the last bundle of colorful clothes thrown onto the lawn, I stepped down from the porch, sobbing. I stood in the middle of the stone walkway, letting the rain come down on me. It washed the blood off my hand and mixed with my tears as I sobbed.

With clumsy fingers and blurry eyes, I undid the zipper of Will's sweatshirt. I tore it from my shoulders and threw into the yard along with my other clothes. It landed in a puddle of mud. I let out a sound that was half scream, half sob, and collapsed to my knees, overtaken by my sorrow and loss. I sobbed as I leaned forward and pressed my hands into the wet grass. My bleeding hand left red marks on the grass, but they were quickly washed away. It reminded me of my happiness. It had come on so suddenly but then disapeared even more suddenly. Replaced by a heartbreak so powerful that it crushed my very soul.

I would have killed myself it wasn't for the fact that I was already dead. Like I said, if I was dead to Will, then I was dead to myself.


	34. Sad Girl

**Sad Girl**

I felt like I was being led into hell by the devil himself as August led me up to the school Monday morning. I felt like I was stepping off a cliff into oblivion without a parachute. Like I was walking into the lair of a beast unarmed. Like I was entering the dragon's keep to get away from some angry villagers. I felt like I was going from a bad situation to an even worse one. My weekend had been horrible, but I was absolutely and one hundred percent sure that my week was going to be about ten times worse.

August and I were dead silent as we walked. I could care less. I had nothing to say to him that didn't involve a lot of screaming and about a thousand curses. And, apparently, August had no desire to speak to me unless he had some kind of bad news to bear. Or maybe he just didn't know how to make small talk. Either way, I didn't care. In fact, I hardly noticed. I was too caught up in everything going on around me.

All around us, people's thoughts were centered on August's possessive arm around me - wondering when we had become an item. They all knew that Will and I had broken up. Thanks to _Facebook _and Will's new relationship status as 'single.' However, none of these people seemed to know anything about the breakup; not where or when or why. They only knew that it had happened. That didn't surprise me. Will probably wasn't even in school yet, and his best friends were probably the only people he told the whole story too. Or should I say, most of the story. I wouldn't be surprised if he left out a few details, like how he'd told me he loved me.

"Don't you just love all this attention princess?" August asked me, his voice falsely sociable. Really, he just sounded smug.  
"Not really," I mumbled.

"Really?" he asked, but I felt as if it wasn't really a question, "You don't love having everyone's eyes on you? Having them all think about you. Having them all _obsess _over you."  
"The only one obsessed with me is you," I muttered dryly. Really, I wasn't in the mood for witty banter. But if the comeback was in my head, I might as well say it.

He drew me closer to him, pinning me against his side tightly. "It's called love princess," he said in a teasing but slightly irate voice.  
"Sure it is," I grumbled under my breath.

"Eh?" he questioned and I knew that he'd heard me and wanted me to retract the statement. It was his equivalent of _'what did you just say?'  
_"Nothing," I muttered, "Just let it go."

"Very well then love," he said, loosening his grip just a bit. We were silent again, mostly because I would never institute conversation with him. I preferred to not have to talk to him and would avoid it if possible. And today of all days, I especially did not want to talk to him. And not just because he was positively prime evil, but because I was more focused on scoping the area for Will as we emerged onto the concrete courtyard in front of the school, bustling with students. I didn't spot Will though. I did however, locate our friends. And by that I mean my former friends and Will's current friends.

They were by their usual watering hole, the left stairs. They seemed agitated and disbanded - unorganized and edgy. They reminded me of a restless pride of lions. What with the way they were all stalking around the stairs - pacing and moving about - making it impossible for anybody else to pass. They were all very angry, with me actually. Will had told them what had happened and they were royally pissed. Will was their best friend after all. They _loved _him. He was their leader and their little brother at the same time. He was someone who looked after them but also needed to be looked after too. His pain was their pain. They really were like a pack of wolves or a pride of lions. To everyone else in the school, they were the ruthless predators, but they looked after their own.

They were all angry at me but worried about Will. He was late. Not that that had never happened before. But it still made them edgy. When they'd last talked to him yesterday he'd been really low and they were worried that he would do something stupid. They weren't the only one's.

But when they spotted me . . . God you'd think that I had killed their families. Kristy was the first to see me as I approached the building with August. Her face . . . I would never forget her face. I'd always thought of her as shallow, only liking Will for his good looks and popularity. But now . . . Now I saw it. She really did love Will - not like I did, but it was still love. And she was every bit as protective of him as I was. Which is why she wanted me dead.

She was standing up, face alert and full of hatred, reminding me of some kind of scout. She summoned the other's attention and they all looked over at me. All at once, their expressions morphed to intense hatred, their thoughts swirling with anger. Except for one person . . . Heather. She was sitting on a step with Mike laying down between her legs, his head resting against her abdomen. _He _looked absolutely murderous, but she didn't. She was just stroking his hair soothingly and absently as she stared at me with confusion.

I had to look away.

"Why don't we sit out here for a bit love?" August suggested, leading me over to a cluster of picnic benches, "Enjoy the nice weather?"  
"Fine," I said and sat down next to him. He wrapped an arm over my shoulder and I swore I could hear Aaron grinding his teeth from all the away across the courtyard.

August and I were both silent. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was just silence. He was playing with a strand of my hair but I felt as if his thoughts were elsewhere. I didn't care though. I just let him play with my hair and stared straight ahead at the loop of road up ahead where the buses had been parked, waiting for Will to show up. I was worried about him, but I was also trying to avoid looking over at Kristy and them. Hearing their thoughts was bad enough.

_"Slut. I fucking hate her. I liked her better when she was with Will. At least then he was happy," _thought Kristy, her lips curling back from her teeth angrily.  
_"That lame-ass cunt. I can't believe she cheated on Will. He liked her so much too . . .Fucking bitch. He's better off without her," _thought Aaron, seething.  
_"That tramp! First she breaks Will's heart and then she steals my guy! Whore!" _thought Juliet, angrier then I'd ever seen her.  
_"I'm gonna fucking kill that cheating whore. It would serve her right for what she did to Will," _thought Mike. He meant it too. The only thing stopping him was Heather's soothing but reprimanding touch.

And then, there was Heather. The odd-man out as always. She wasn't thinking about how much she wanted to kill me. She was confused actually. She was going around in circles in her head as she ran her fingers through Mike's hair. She was so in tune with him that she knew he was contemplating hurting August or I. Which is why she had him practically lying in her lap. She knew she could keep him calmer if he was closer. She was stroking his hair absently though. She was actually deep inside her own thoughts.

_"This doesn't make sense. Why would Nettie break up with Will?"_ she thought, _"They were so happy. Everything was perfect but maybe there was something going on behind the scenes . . . No, no. I know that's not true. They were perfect. I could feel it . . . No, no . . . This doesn't make any sense. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong."_

I had to hand it to Heather. She was perceptive.

I forgot all about Heather though when the sound of a roaring motor reached my ears. I looked up, along with most of the other students, to see a shiny black motorcycle flying down the road. I stared in silence, along with everyone else, when the motorcycle stopped in front of the school. I was honestly shocked to see Will sitting on the back of the motorcycle, his arms around some masked woman's waist. I was not surprised though that he wasn't wearing a helmet.

Everybody, myself included, stared as Will dismounted the motorcycle. He looked _hot. _He was dressed in dark jeans, threatening black motorcycle boots, and a black sleeveless shirt that revealed his impressive arms. Around each of his wrists was a leather black band and dog tags hung from around his neck. His hair was ruffled as always but he'd dyed it again. The once colorful tips were now all black. He looked hot as hell right then.

"Thanks for the ride Xaxa," he purred.  
"No problem Jailbait," said the woman as she removed her helmet. She was the older girl from _Nightmare _that Will had been making out with. The psychic vampire with the purple and white hair who looked like she was in her early twenties. Xana was her name.

"Maybe next time I can drive?" he suggested.  
She laughed. "We'll see."

"What? You don't think I can handle it?" he teased.  
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe you can drive on the way to Little Lyn's tonight. 'Til then try and behave yourself," she said, moving as if to put her helmet back on.

"What? No goodbye present?" he said with mock innocence.  
She grinned. "How about a kiss?" she offered.

He shook his head and wrinkled his nose like a bunny.  
She sighed in exasperation, but she was smiling as she extracted a very small plastic bag of white powder from the inside of her jacket. She handed it to him discreetly. "Here you go you little brat."

"Thank you Xaxa!" he said in a mock childish voice as he slipped the bag into his pocket.  
She rolled her eyes. "I'll swing by your house tonight around ten. Try and stay out of trouble 'til then," she suggested.

"No promises," he grinned devilishly.  
"I didn't expect any. I'll see you tonight," she said, grinning back.

"See ya tonight," he said and turned to walk away.  
"Go get 'em tiger," she said, smacking his ass playfully.

"That's sexual harassment!" he shouted at her, spinning around and smiling.  
"Go to class," she told him.

"Stay away from me you creepy old pedo," he said, pretending to be outraged.  
"Catch ya later Jailbait," she said, grinning and putting her helmet back on before speeding away.

"Fucking rapist," he muttered sarcastically to himself. He looked around for a moment, surveying his audience. His eyes slid over me and paused. He stared me dead in the eye. His were full of anger and pain, but he wore a huge smile on his face, even as he stared me down for that second. And then, he looked away. Like he hadn't even noticed me.

He went over to where his friends were congregated silently on the stairs. He hopped over the railing agilely and stuck the landing. "Hola los amigos," he said grandly to them. They all seemed to snap out of their haze then. They'd all be watching him interact with Xana in shock - surprised that he'd bounced back so quickly.

What they didn't realized was that it was all an act. Will was hurting but he was covering it up. Very well, I might add. I wasn't surprised that he was good at hiding his true feelings. After all, he'd been able to hide the fact that he was abused for the last seventeen years. Pretending not to be heartbroken was probably a piece of cake for him. And once he had his drugs in him he'd be set for the rest of the day.

"Hey Will," Aaron said casually, trying to shake away his anger, "Who was that chick you were just with?"  
"Oh that's Xana," Will said, grinning smugly as he extracted the bag of white powder from his pocket along with a dollar. He wasn't even afraid of being caught with drugs on school grounds.

"How old is she?" Mike wondered. He was still angry but he didn't want to bum Will out, so he suppressed it. All the others had figured the same thing and were putting on happy faces.  
"Twenty one," announced Will smugly as he poured a little of the white powder into his hand.

"That makes her a pedophile," Juliet chirped.  
"Now, who said the two of us were involved?" Will asked innocently, rolling up the dollar, "We're just friends."

"Friends who molest each other," Aaron teased.  
"That's the best kind of friendship," Will said with a huge grin before he began to snort some of the white powder using the rolled up dollar. I watched in shock. I'd never actually seen Will do drugs with my own eyes. It was torturous watching him fill himself with poison. I was filled with the intense urge to rush over there and take the drugs from him like one would take something sharp away from a small child.

"Hey - you gonna share any of that?" Kristy piped up, putting a hand on her hip demandingly.  
"Hmmm . . . Let me think about it," he said, snorting a little bit more.

"Sharing is caring," Juliet recited.  
"Well in that case," he said, holding the bag closer to him, "This is all mine."

"Oh fuck you," Aaron said as Kristy flipped him off.  
"Kidding!" he said, pouring a little more into his hand before tossing the bag to Kristy, who grinned. I couldn't believe they were doing drugs right out in broad daylight. God, you really could do anything in Hollow Creek.

"That a boy," Kristy said approvingly, pouring some of the powder into her hand before tossing it to Aaron.  
"So where ya going tonight with that older chick?" Aaron asked as he poured some into his hand as well before tossing it to Mike, who declined, and threw it to Juliet.

"Oh this party a friend of our's is having," he said vaguely, sniffling like he had a cold. His eyes were already becoming bloodshot.  
"And you didn't invite us?" Kristy asked petulantly, snorting the powder through a dollar she'd extracted from her pocket.

"That's not very nice ya know," Juliet chimed in, snorting some as well before throwing the half empty bag back to Will. He put his finger into his mouth and sucked on it for a second before dipping it into the bag. The fine little crystals clung to his wet finger as he extracted it back out of the bag. He ran his finger over his lips, coating it in the crystals, before putting the finger back into his mouth and sucking off the remains. He licked the rest off of his lips when he was done. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. And neither could Juliet or Kristy for that matter.

"You don't know them," he said, shifting his weight back and forth, "It would be weird for you."  
"Y_ou_'re weird," Kristy accused giggling.

"Well _you_'re weirder," Will returned, laughing. Juliet and Aaron joined in. Mike rolled his eyes and grinned while Heather just sighed, still lost in thought.  
"I think you're both weird," Aaron said.

"You're mom is weird," Will said, his eyes bright red now with pink shadows underneath them, "In bed."  
"I know right?" Aaron said and they all burst out laughing, minus Heather and Mike.

I looked away. I couldn't watch this anymore.

"August," I said in my smallest voice, "Can you take me home? I don't feel well."  
He looked at me in such a way that told me that he knew I was faking - that he knew exactly why I wanted to leave, but still he said, "Okay love."

"Thank you," I murmured, leaning against his side as if I found comfort in his closeness. I didn't. I just wanted to get out of here. All I wanted was to be away from here. Away from Will and his friends. Away from his denial and their hateful thoughts. I wanted to get away from this school - from this town. Somewhere where the pain couldn't touch me. Where August couldn't touch me. Where Will couldn't hate me. I wanted to get away. Far, far away.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.


	35. Fake Girl

**Fake Girl**

With August's arm around my waist, I hurried into school. I had my eyes on my bright pink pumps, my hands gripping the thick braid that hung over my shoulder. I could hardly stand to look at anybody - couldn't stand to see the hate in their eyes. Because now, everybody hated me. It had only taken a day for the rumors to spread - only a day to make the entire student body hate me. I'd known this would happen. Everybody_ adored_ Will and tolerated me for the sole reason that Will adored me. But now that Will hated me . . . All that tolerance evaporated, to be replaced by disgust.

The thoughts and gossip were harsh. I wasn't used to being this hated. I was used to people thinking I was bitchy or weird, or more often then not just ignoring me completely. I'd heard some hateful things when Will and I had first starting going out . . . But that hate wasn't really hate. It was just petty thoughts from jealous girls. It was completely unlike what I was experiencing now. This was, in some cases, actual hate. And there was a lot of it - coming from all sides.

The only person who didn't hate me was the one person I wished hated me. August. He loved me so much it frightened and confused me. He hadn't left my side from yesterday morning. He'd taken me home yesterday and spent the whole day coddling. I'd always loved it when Will cared for me - but when August 'cared' for me . . . Well it didn't make me feel cared for at all. It made me feel smothered.

For the time being though, I was too busy trying to block out hateful thoughts to feel smothered. I ran my fingers over the bumpy contours of my braid nervously as I kept my eyes down, watching my bubble gum pink, white polka dotted summer dress swish as I walked. I felt like I was in some kind of twilight zone. The thoughts around me seemed louder then the voices - reverberating through my head. Everybody who saw me thought about me - thought about the rumors about me. There were countless rumors about my breakup with Will, each more outlandish then the last.

"Huh," the little noise came from August. It was a combination of curiosity and vague appreciation. I lifted my eyes to see what had gotten his attention and saw that his eyes were on my locker. Down the hall from us was my locker . . . Covered in an assortment of colorful papers like fliers on a bulletin board. I was close enough to read some of them.

_Cheater.__  
__Skank._  
_Bitch. _

I bit my lip and exhaled very slowly. This was extreme. People were actually congregating to let me know how much they hated me. Sure, they'd done it anonymously. But usually, people were too spineless to even do that, preferring to hide behind their computers and harass people via 'formspring' or some other Internet garbage.

"People are stupid," August said simply, not offering any words of comfort.  
"Mhm," I murmured, my voice breaking as I slipped away from August's hold on my waist. I put a hand over my mouth and blinked away tears and made my way over to my locker. Aware of the eyes on me, I began to rip down the papers. I felt August's presence behind me but said nothing, concentrating on not crying.

"Would ya like some assistance?" he asked in a neutral tone.  
"Can you please just leave me alone?" I asked, my voice sounding more vulnerable then I would have liked.

"If you'll just look at me first," he said. So I held back my tears and turned around to face August. He was staring into my eyes with his emerald ones. There was no compassion in them. Only greed.  
"You shouldn't let those silly lil' pricks get to ya," he assured me.

I wiped my dry eyes, knowing that my desire to cry showed in them despite the lack of tears. "Fine, fine. Just go, okay?"  
"Alright love, alright," he said, fingering my braid before releasing it and letting it thump back against my shoulder.

"I'll see you later," I mumbled dryly.  
"I'll see you in a -" he cut off abruptly when someone called his name - well a variation of his name.

"Auggie!"

He froze, and his expression altered completely. From the one he usually wore - one of barely concealed smugness to one of confusion. His usually tense jaw relaxed a bit and his lips parted slightly. And his eyes . . . His eyes changed color right in front of me. For an instance, the green was gone, replaced by a sky blue color. I couldn't help but note how it suited him better. His green eyes usually seemed so . . . sinister. Like a snake. But the light blue . . . It reminded me of an innocent little blonde child.

"August?" I asked, confused.  
"What? What's going on?" he asked, seeming even more confused then I was. His voice was different too - slightly. This new accent still sounded _vaguely_ British, but it was different. Not as crisp and proper.

"August, what's the matter with you?" I demanded, not out of concern for him, but out of curiousity.  
"August!" came another voice, a much louder, male voice. The same one that had called him just a moment ago.

And just like that, August was back to normal. His eyes flashed back to the sinister green and his expression became hostile - much more hostile then usual. His jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes as he turned to look at the door. I followed my gaze to see that he was scowling at a man I did not recognize. He like he was in his late teens - maybe early twenties. He was tan with a mop of black, curly hair and a pair of bright green eyes. He was dressed well - similiarly to August with his black sports' coat and designer jeans. He was striding in our general direction.

"August!" he announced, clamping August on the back. He said the name like it was a grand joke in itself.  
August exhaled dramatically in annoyance, turning to look over his shoulder at the taller guy. "Marshal," he returned curtly like it was some kind of horrid insult.

"Been lookin' all over for ya mate," Marshal said grandly in a distinct British accent. All I could think was _"Not another one."__  
_"Well I've been 'ere," August said in a clipped tone.

"Testy, testy," Marshal said, rasing his hands as if he'd been accused of something.  
"I told you not to come see me 'ere," August said plainly, refusing to meet Marhsal's eyes.

"This is important," Marshal said, his voice immediatly becoming firm as he placed a commanding hand on August's shoulder in a possesive way. It faintly reminded me of the way August touched me.  
"Fine," August hissed, his eyes snapping back to me. I raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I'll see ya after school," he said in a stressed but light tone, pecking me hastily on the forehead, "I have some buisness to attend to."  
"Okay," was all I said.

"Be good," he said before walking away with Marshal, both speaking in hushed tones. I watched as they both walked out the door. I was completely lost, but I welcomed the feeling. I'd rather be confused then depressed. I was glad for this suspicious development. It gave me incentive to look more into what exactly August _was. _I'd lost interest when I'd lost Will but now . . . Well my curious was instatable. And maybe, just maybe, finding out what August was would help me get rid of him somehow. Maybe it would help me get my life back. A feeble, feeble hope filled me. Enough to keep me from crying. More then enough.

I went back to work, ripping down the hateful papers, my mind hard at work. I was thinking of the strange event I'd just witnessed - August's weird little trance and the cryptic encounter with Marshal. They were both very suspicious. Sure, pretty much everything August did was suspicious, but this stuck for some reason. Maybe because I knew nothing about August other then his name. I didn't know where he lived, or about his family, or if he even had a family. I'd never seen him react with anyone outside of school. I knew nothing of his past. I knew nothing about him at all. He was like a phantom who had just shown up in my life with nothing to offer but a life of imprisoment for me.

"You're not fooling anybody."

Clutching the papers to my chest, I whirled to see Heather standing next to my locker. I looked at her closely, thinking. To anyone else, she would look like an average girl. Kind of plain, but with looks inhanced by an expert makeup job. Long, combed out, wavy dirty blonde hair. Pale skin and a tall, gangly frame. Average clothes - skinny jeans and a striped blue and white sweater. To anyone else, she seemed . . . average. But to me . . . Well I saw more. I saw someone who was kind and strong and loving and inteligent. Someone who was happy but not blinded by love. Someone who cared. Someone I wished I could be.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, surprised that she was even talking to me. The set of her lips and the way she crossed her arms over her chest made it clear it wasn't a social call though.  
"You know exactly what I'm talking about Nettie," she said, shocking me by using my nickname, "You always know."

Of the many things she'd noticed, my ability to know everything had not gotten past her.

"Well, I don't," I said, opening my locker.  
She pursed her lips, aware that I was lying but deciding to save time and just explain it to me anyway. "I know you didn't use Will to get to August."

"Oh yeah? How?" I growled, not looking at her as I stuffed some of the papers into my locker.  
"Because . . . because you love him," she said lowly, even though nobody was around. The hallway was clear - seeing as the bell for homeroom had already rung.

"And if I did, how would you know?" I quipped, hoping to deter her by answering her question with a question. I didn't want to lie and say that I didn't love Will. Not again.  
"I have an eye for these kinds of things Amunet," she said, "I know when people are in love. I can just see it. The chemistry between them. It amazes me that not everybody else can see it. But that's not the point. The point is that I saw it between you and Will."

"I know that you and Mike are soul mates and whatever," I said, angrily stuffing papers into my locker, "But not every other couple is deeply in love."  
"I agree," she said solemnly, "But you and Will were."

"If I was in love with him, why would I have broken up with him?" I asked rhetorically.  
"That's the part I'm trying to figure out . . ." she mumbled.

"Well, good luck," I muttered, slamming my locker closed, only to realize that I'd left one on it. A bright pink peice of paper with the word _Slut _on it. Charming.  
"I don't need your luck. I'm gonna find out what's going on here. I'm gonna find out how August got you to break up with Will and why," she said, a fiery glint in her eyes.

"What makes you think August made me break up with Will?" I demanded, deciding that answering questions with questions was a safe way to go.  
"The fact that you love Will and hate August," she said curtly, "And the fact that I don't trust that foreign freak."

"You shouldn't stick your nose into other people's buisness Heather," I told her. It sounded like I was threatening her but really, I was warning her. I didn't want August to have any reason to hurt her.  
"I know you want me to help you Amunet," she said, "But you're too afraid to ask. You're afraid of someone. And that scares me."

"I'm not afraid of _anything_," I hissed, ripping the last paper down and looking her dead in the eye as I lied. There was only one thing I was _really _afraid of anymore and that was something happening to Will.  
"Let me help you with that," she snapped, grabbing the paper from my hands. She pulled a pen from her pocket and flipped the paper over and then leaned against the lockers to angrily scribble something on the paper.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this. With, or without your help," she growled, slamming the paper down on my locker. It stuck due to the tap that lingered on it. With that, she just turned and stomped away. Her thoughts were centered on figuring this out. I sighed and looked at the paper. The worst slur so far was written on it.

_Liar_


	36. Feisty Girl

**Feisty Girl**

The next morning I didn't feel dead anymore. I'd had a revelation. I'd realized that I _couldn't _be dead inside - I couldn't even be that miserable. The only people in the world who are miserable are those who have no purpose. I had a purpose. I had a mission. My new purpose was to make August Bronze the most miserable being on the entire planet - to make his life a living hell. And as for my mission . . . My mission was to send him to hell. My mission was to find a way to get rid of him once and for all. My mission was to kill him.

But, I'd quickly deducted that that wasn't so easily done. He'd demonstrated some frightening abilities recently - abilities I couldn't compete with. If I wanted to kill August the first thing I had to do was find out what he _was. _Then, maybe I'd have a chance of defeating him. That would require research though - which I could only do when he wasn't watching me. And how to know when he wasn't watching me? That was the dilemma. I knew that my plot to kill August was going to take some time, which meant that I would have to wait. Learn more about him - before I could even _think_ of striking. But in the mean time, I was going to be as difficult and uncompromising as I possibly could be.

I owed it to myself and to Will. August may have ruined my life, killed my relationship, and destroyed the love of my life . . . But he could never control me. He could never kill my spirit. I would never be submissive to him ever again. He had nothing over me anymore. What was he gonna do? Kill me? He wouldn't dare. And if he did, I wouldn't mind. Because, if I couldn't complete my mission, then I might as well be dead. The only leverage August had had over me was Will, but now that was gone. I'd cut my ties from Will. Of all the people on the planet who hated me, William Sharp probably hated me the most. And although that thought made my heart constrict and tears spring to my eyes, I was glad in a way. If Will hated me then he'd be safe from August.

I was standing in front of the mirror Wednesday morning as I mulled over all of this in my head. I was giving myself a little mental pep talk - reminding myself of my goals for today. I had to remember to stay strong. I had to remember my new purpose. I had to remember to make August suffer.

He'd probably suffer from a heart attack when he saw me that day. If he even recognized me. I didn't even recognize me. I didn't look like a little business woman for once. I looked like I was planning on killing the governor. I was decked out in all black - something I had never done before this weekend. I wore black jeans, a black skin-tight long sleeve shirt, and short black boots. My hair was in a half up-half down do, because I had been unable to decide what to do with it. So I'd pulled back the front of my hair into a baby pony-tail in back - something I also never did. I wore my contacts - even though I hated them. Around my neck I wore a silver key on a plain silver chain.

The key was actually to Will's dad's house. Will had given it to me ; last Wednesday, after our fight, as a part of our compromise. So I could get in if I ever panicked about him - instead of breaking a window like last time. I'd kept it on my bedside table previously but this morning I'd decided to wear it as a necklace. I wore it for two reasons. One, because it was the only thing that Will had ever given me that I could bring with me everywhere. And two, to aggravate August.

Just as I thought of him, a shadow started to form behind me. Using the mirror, I watched as the shadow was molded into the shape of a human with crossed arms. The shadow seemed to pop, like a bubble, as it was transformed into August. I narrowed my eyes at him in the mirror. God, I hated him. I was shallowly pleased to see the faint surprise on his face at my appearance. It probably would have been more satisfying if I was seeing it firsthand and not in a reflection, but I refused to turn around for him.

"Playing dress up now are we love?" he asked.  
A thin, maliciously sinister little smirk played on my lips.

And so it begins . . .

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" I sneered, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.  
"Oh, oh, oh. My lil' kitty has claws now does she?" he purred, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

"You're just noticing?" I hissed, detaching myself from him.  
"Ohh. Still angry at me now are ya princess?" he asked, starting to massage my neck in a way that was almost painful, "I know you miss baby boy but it was for the best."

"Will you stop calling him that?" I growled, "That's not his name." I knew it was dangerous; being so protective of Will in front of August, but I couldn't help myself.  
"Why do you care?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why do you think?" I retorted snottily, spinning around and letting my hair whip over my shoulder. I grabbed my bag off the floor and stalked out of the room. My face was grim and dark as I strode downstairs. Usually besting others in verbal conflict was enough to make me smirk, but now I derived no pleasure from this. Usually I was being pissy because I was sadistic, but now I was just doing it because I was full of genuine hate.

I went into the garage and when I went to grab my keys from the rack, they literally disappeared before my eyes. I looked up and there was August, leaning against the hood of my car, where he hadn't been a second ago, with my keys dangling from his fingers.

"I'm driving," he said.  
"I'm sorry - whose car is it?" I snarled, even though he'd been driving the last two days.

"What your's is mine love," he said smugly.  
"Like hell it is," I growled, stalking over to him, "Now give me my fucking keys."

He lifted them over his head and out of my reach. "My my, you are in quite the fine temper this morning."  
"Because I'm usually so good natured," I said flippantly, jumping up once in an attempt to get the keys, but I was too short.

"You're still upset about the whole baby boy thing aren't ya?" he guessed. "I thought we talked about this."  
"_Talked_?" I repeated, "No, we didn't _talk_. You told me to get over it and expected me to listen. Well, bad news - I don't have to listen to you."

"You should consider changing that philosophy. That is, if you want to keep baby boy safe," he threatened.  
That thought made me want to find Will and never let him out of my sight - or at least stab August with a screw driver. But I had to remember to appear nonchalant. "As _if _I care. He's not my 'baby boy' anymore, remember?" I said, turning and getting into the passenger's seat before I shanked August out of rage.

We didn't talk on the way there. Not that I expected us to. August wasn't big into small talk, and I just had nothing to say to him. Well, actually I had a lot of things I would have liked to say to him. But they probably would have shocked him so much that he would have driven off into a ravine. And that would be bad.

When we arrived at school and he parked in my usual spot I crossed my arms over my chest and didn't move. When he parked, I still didn't move. I didn't even uncross my arms. When August unbuckled I still didn't move. I still didn't uncross my arms. I just sat there, staring out the window.

He turned to look at me and raised an expectant eyebrow. "Coming?" he asked.  
"No," I said curtly, "I want my mocha."

"Fine. We'll go into town and get you some," he said agreeably, though his tone was hardly agreeable. He was distinctly aggravated by my uncooperative behavior.  
"No. Go to class," I said, "I'll get it myself."

"It's fine," he insisted, clearly trying not to freak out, "I'll come with you."  
"No," I said decisively, "You need to go to class. You were gone all day yesterday."

"What do I need school for?" he asked rhetorically.  
"For to learn," I snapped, rolling my eyes, "Now go. I'm a big girl. I can get my own damn coffee."

He sighed. "Alright princess. You go on your lil' adventure."  
"Yeah. Driving two miles to buy a blend of coffee and hot chocolate. What an adventure. Oh shoot I think I forgot my survival knife," I snarled sarcastically.

"Have fun my lil' warrior princess," he said with a faint smirk, kissing me briefly on the lips before handing me the keys and getting out of the car. I smiled to myself in victory as I slipped out of the car and went around to the driver's side. I climbed back in and drove into town. I actually hadn't lied. I really just wanted to get my mocha alone. August was smothering me. He was always around me and it drove me crazy. He came over after school and just hung all over me. But he always disappeared right before my mother got home - which wasn't until after midnight. Not for the first time, I wished my mother was home.

When I got to the cafe I ordered my mocha from the cute college guy at the counter and when he winked at me, I disregarded it. I for one was sick of hot guys. In my book, hot guys fell into three categories. The ones who were douche bags. The ones who were unimportant to me. And Will.

I took my coffee and left the shop, noting how it was finally nice out. It was the first week of April and things were finally starting to grow a little. I wished Will and I were still together - we would have had such a nice time with the nice weather. Seeing as we'd had a ball when it was sleeting and snowing out half the time - just imagine the fun we'd have in the sun. I got in the car and began driving in the direction of the school. I sipped my coffee while I drove one handed and daydreamed about Will and picnics in the park and night swimming in the pond.

When I arrived back at school, the courtyard was empty, which made sense since first period had started already by this time. I parked my car and slid out, mocha in hand. I made my way up to the school at a leisurely pace. Personally, I wasn't looking forward to walking into first period late, dressed in uncharacteristic clothes. It was just attract unnecessary attention - I had enough of that already.

In all honesty, I didn't even like these clothes. I was only wearing them to make a point to August. I had my colored clothes back - after recovering from my bit of insanity the other day I'd brought everything inside and spent hours washing it all. And I'd been wearing those clothes the last two days, but I'd decided not to today - even if I wanted to. The point was that August liked my retro dresses and my 'little business woman' outfits too. So, to piss him off, I dressed completely different.

I strode inside the building to find the hallways abandoned. I paused for a moment before deciding that I was going to ditch first period and go to the library. I smiled slightly to myself thinking of how ironic that sounded. But, I really wanted to try and do a little research. I wanted to try and figure out what August was, so I would have to turn to the Internet. I would have done it at home, but like I said, he stays so damn late. The best part was that I could work on it during school without fear of getting caught by August. I had the perfect alibi - my project on mass hysteria for psychology.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly screamed when someone slammed me into the lockers, causing me to spill my coffee. I was shocked to see Will looming above me, his hands pinning my wrists to my side. The black tips of his hair were falling into his bloodshot eyes and sweat dewed on his forehead. He was dressed in dark jeans, motorcycle boots, and a fitting black t-shirt. He had his dog tags on and now that I was close to him for the first time since Saturday I could see the word _Jailbait _on one of them. I narrowed my eyes at it but I couldn't kept the scowl on my face for long. Will looked so damn hot I just wanted to lick my lips. He'd changed his style since the breakup - transferring his inner badass to be his outer badass. And although I thought he looked drop dead sexy, I kept getting distracted by the look on his face.

He looked pissed, but he also looked stoned. His eyes were bloodshot with pink shadows underneath them and he had traces of cocaine on his lips. Obviously, this was the violent side of coke. I'd never really seen Will show this side affect of the drug before. Maybe because what I'd thought was coke was meth. Not like I would really notice the difference.

If his physical appearance didn't make it obvious he was high, the fact that he was touching me sealed the deal. He'd been as high as a kite the last two days and he'd _still _avoided me. He'd been tripping over shit and talking crazy talk - yet he'd been coherent enough to avoid me at all costs. The fact that he was touching me meant that something seriously up.

"I bet you think you're really funny Lamorte," he snarled, panting heavily. His breath smelled of Snickers, booze, and cocaine. The mixture was so common for Will that I actually found it oddly pleasant.  
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, genuinely confused.

He ignored me. "I didn't do _any_ of those things you said I did," he went on.  
"What are you _talking _about?" I demanded again.

"I know you're the one spreading all those rumors about me," he growled. His face was so close to mine that I could almost pretend he still loved me and was about to kiss me.  
"Why would I do that?" I exclaimed, "All those rumors make me look like a bitch."

"Except the one that makes me look like a whore," he snapped angrily.  
"I have no idea what you're going on about," I said honestly.

"Don't play dumb with me," he ranted angrily, releasing me so he could pace restlessly in front of me, "I _know _it was you. You're mad because everybody keeps talking about what a bitch you are. So you decided to spread a rumor that made me look bad to improve your image."

_"What _rumor?" I demanded, throwing my hands up in exasperation.  
He paused in his pacing to glare at me. "I don't see any Oscars in your future," he hissed, "So I suggest you stop lying. You're not good at it."

The funny part is, I probably could win an Oscar for that performance from Saturday.

"Fine! I started the rumor! Not like anything I say can convince you otherwise anyway," I exclaimed, "Now would you be so kind as to tell me _what _this rumor is?"  
"Oh, just a vicious rumor about how I apparently went _down_ on you," he said, fury clear in his voice as he clenched his fists.

"_Down_ on me?" I repeated, suffering from a brief moment of stupidity.  
He made a peace sign with his fingers and put it over his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Even I got that. Eventually.

"Oh . . . _Oh_," I said, "They think you gave me _oral_?"  
He dropped his hand and pursued his lips, nodding. "They think I gave you a _lot _of oral," he said, "Like _all the time_."

"And people are making fun of you for that?" I asked, surprised.  
"Yeah. _Apparently_, anyone who gives oral is automatically a whore in high school. No matter the gender."

"Why would they think that we did that?" I asked, forgetting who I was talking to for a moment. Forgetting that we were supposed to hate each other.  
"Because _you _told them that!" he exploded, throwing his hands in the air before turning around and lacing his fingers into his hair.

"I didn't tell them that!" I exclaimed trying to keep my voice at a reasonable volume.  
"You said that you did!" he nearly shouted, seeming lost.

"I was being sarcastic," I pointed out.  
"Ugh!" he groaned and tangled his fingers into his hair. His drugged mind was unable to keep up with all of this.

"I didn't say anything about you. Who would I say it too anyway? You can't get mad at me just because a bunch of people are calling you a whore," I said, this time genuinly angry with him, "You bring it on yourself. Letting some cougar molest you in the middle of the parking lot."

"You mean _Xana_?" he demanded, seeming shocked.  
"Or should I say 'Xaxa?'" I mocked, starting to get fired up by all these false accusations. I still loved Will, but I could still get mad at the guy.

"Xana is not a cougar," he told me plainly.  
"I know. The correct term is pedophile. I was _trying _to be nice," I snapped.

"She is _not _a pedophile!" he insisted.  
I reached out and grabbed his dog tag. The words on it gleamed in the light. "Sure about that . . . _Jailbait_?" I asked, letting go of the tag.

"It was a gift," he told me, flushing faintly and scowling.  
"From who? Xana?" I snapped.

"Oh so what? You think I'm a whore now too? Even though you _know _those rumors aren't true?" he demanded.  
"You bring it on yourself," I muttered. I didn't really think he was a whore, but I was still pissed at him for not believing me. Even though I didn't deserve his trust. Hence, _irrational_ anger.

"Whatever. Screw you," he snapped angrily.  
"Well then you better get down on your knees," I growled cruelly. I regretted the words the second I said them . . . But I'd been so angry . . .Not to mention I doubted I could make him hate me even more.

He flushed an even darker red and he really looked like he wanted to kill me. But then, August came out of nowhere to stand beside him. Of course he'd used his creepy powers to see that I was talking to Will and come intervene. Personally, I was just surprised it had taken him so long to get here. I had expected him to fly in like a bat out of hell the second Will touched me.

"I suggest you stay away from my girlfriend William," he said curtly.  
Will narrowed his eyes and looked back and forth between August and I. He scowled at me. "You can have her," he snarled, flipping me off before stomping away.

I lowered my eyelids as August came to wrap an arm around me. "I don't want you talking to him," he told me in a cheerful voice.  
"Fortunately, I do not care what you want," I snapped. "And for the record, he approached me."

"Oh, and what pray tell did William wish to talk to you about?" he inquired.  
"You don't know?" I asked, genuinely surprised but also loving the opportunity to mock him.

"No, but I can find out if you don't cooperate," he threatened.  
"He accused me of spreading some rumor about him," I told him, deciding it wasn't worth with-holding.

"The one about him preforming oral sex for you?" he guessed. I disliked that word he'd used. _Preform. _It made Will sound like some kind of circus animal.  
"Yeah. How'd you know about that?" I asked.

"I know everything my dear," he said smugly.  
"Obviously not," I muttered.

"I know what I need to know," he amended.  
"And rumors about Will are something you think you need to know?" I pried, hoping to get something important from him.

"William's affairs are of mild importance to me solely because of his vendetta with you," he said.  
"So you're trying to tell me that you're trying to _protect _me . . . From _Will_?" I laughed, finding the thought just downright funny.

"Little Billy's drugs make him a little unstable," he said, "I have to keep an eye on the kid - make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."  
I glared at him. "You promised to leave him alone," I snarled, "So leave him the hell alone."

"If I didn't know better, I would have thought you still had feelings for baby boy," he said, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously.  
"He's a sweetheart. Not to mention just a kid. He never did anything to you, so just leave him alone," I told him.

"As long as he stays out of my way love, he's perfectly safe," he promised.  
"Good. Now . . . now why don't you make yourself useful and get me another mocha," I suggested, looking down at my spilled coffee. It had been mostly empty but I would take any excuse I could to get rid of August.

"You don't want to go yourself?" he asked suspiciously.  
"I have an English essay next period," I said, not actually having to lie.

"Alright princess, I'll get you your coffee, but you have to come to dinner with me Friday night," he said and I smirked faintly to myself because he'd already resorted to negotiating with me. He'd already realized he couldn't order me around and expect me to listen.

"Deal," I agreed.  
"I'll see ya in a bit love," he promised, pecking me on the lips before vanishing around the corner.

I sighed. "You can come out now."  
On the opposite side of the hall, just a ways down, Heather emerged from the girl's bathroom, where she'd been hiding in the doorway.

"I thought I told you not to get involved," I said, staring straight ahead and watching her slink towards me out of the corner of my eye.  
"And I thought I told you that's not going to happen," she shot back, the wheels in her head already turning.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I said stoically.  
She ignored me. "What was that? Why was he threatening Will?" she demanded.

"Don't worry about it Heather," I said stiffly, "Will's safe."  
"Is that how August got you to break up with Will? By threatening him?" she pursued, taking a step closer.

"Don't worry about it Heather," I repeated.  
"Too late. I already am," she snapped.

"This isn't your fight," I told her.  
"Then I'll make it my fight," she countered.

"This isn't a good idea," I warned her.  
"I don't care. I want to help," she went on.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I muttered.  
She paused before taking another step forward. "I saw your fight with Will. For the record, I don't think it was you who started that rumor about Will."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?" I asked bitterly.  
"Because if you cared about your reputation, you wouldn't have broken up with the hottest guy in school," she said.

"Well thanks then . . . I guess," I muttered.  
"Oh and also for the record, I'm going to find out what's going on here," she swore, "And you can't stop me."

"You can't fix this," I warned.  
She got in my face and looked me dead in the eye. "Watch me," she snarled before stalking off.


	37. Abused Girl

**Abused Girl**

I couldn't decide if I liked my outfit or not. On the one hand, I looked like a bad ass. But on the other hand, I also looked like a slut. I was wearing a tight, strapless, black dress that was more like a really stretched out tube top. To make up for how short the dress was, I wore black leather boots that almost reached my knees. I had my contacts in and had my makeup heavily done; black eyeliner, red lipstick, and dark purple eye shadow. My nails were neatly painted black and my wrists were decorated with silver bangles. I had my straight black hair free of all constraints and flowing over my shoulders.

It was Friday and I had a date with August. Something I was not happy about, but I couldn't complain. I'd agreed to come along without a fight. That didn't mean I wasn't going to aggravate him all night. I'd devoted my life to tormenting him, I wasn't going to stop now, even though I was only two day into this contract with myself. Still, I'd been trying my hardest to make him miserable. I'd been as annoying as hell these past two days. It didn't require that much effort though. I was wound tighter then a rubber bound ball and as angry as a rabid dog.

The past two days hadn't exactly been peaceful, to say the least. August aside, I was still getting crap from all sides. That rumor about Will going down on me had been bad publicity for both of us; me especially though. A lot of people thought it was a pretty whorey thing for Will to do, but nobody was hassling him too much. With Will, it was easy to ignore his flaws, especially for the people who admired him for his popularity. But for me . . . Well everybody thought even less for me for having my boyfriend do something so degrading him when I was already using him.

And if that wasn't enough, I was still getting grief from Will. He'd steered clear of me the last two days but didn't hesitate to shoot me a poisonous glare if I ever made the mistake of catching his eye. Having him hate me so much made me want to throw up, but I had to keep reminding myself that he hated me because of a lie, so I could almost pretend that he didn't hate me for real though. It was a hard thing to convince myself of, based on how hostile he'd been the past few days. The cocaine he was snorting wasn't helping either. I kind of wished he'd go back to meth. When he was on meth he was all giggly and full of child like wonder. But when he was on cocaine, he alternated between being restlessly hyper and frighteningly angry.

I sighed and decided it was time to face the music. I grabbed my wallet off of my dresser and extracted a hundred dollars worth of twenties. I folded up the five bills and tucked them into one of my boots. In the other boot was my cellphone. I figured that money and a working phone were all I needed in case of emergency for tonight. Usually I liked to have some kind of weapon, like my heavy purse or pepper spray, but I didn't think I would need any of those things tonight. I would be with August after all, and what kind of dumbass would try and cross August? For some reason, I never considered the possibility that I would need protection from August. Although, I really should have.

I left my room and descended the stairs to my vacant first floor. I didn't pause down there, just went straight for the front door, which I hardly used. I usually just went through the garage. I locked the door behind me as I stepped out onto my dark porch. On the street was parked a red sports car. I wasn't familiar enough with cars to know exactly what kind of car it was, but I'd been in the minds of enough car fanatics to know that it was some kind of Italian sports car.

I got off my porch and strode down my walkway and up my driveway to the car. It was too dark for me to recognize the make of the car even up close, so I just got in the passenger seat. The lights inside the car were neon blue but were bright enough so that I got a good look at August. As always, he looked clean and elegant and flawless. He was dressed in a death black suit with gold cuff links that caught the light. He had a pair of designer sunglasses on top of his head. The way his eyes moved made it clear that he was also examining my outfit.

"We're going to a club princess, not a brothel," he informed me.  
"_I _thought we were going to dinner," I said.

"This outfit of your's wouldn't be much appropriate at a restaurant either," he said.  
"I'm not changing," I said stubbornly, "Besides, this is a perfectly fine for a club."

"I suppose. But don't complain to me when men ask ya what 'cha rate is," he muttered.  
I rolled my eyes. August was so old fashioned, which is why I sometimes speculated that he was older then he looked. But I was also rolling my eyes because he would castrate any guy who even attempted to have intercourse with me. I wouldn't have to ask for him too. I wouldn't even have to tell him someone hit on me. He would just know.

"When did you plan on telling me we were going to a club and not dinner?" I demanded.  
"When we got there. It was supposed to be a surprise," he said as he began driving.

"What club? How far away is it?" I inquired persistently.  
"I will retain as much information as possible to salvage what is left of my surprise," he said.

"Whatever," I said flippantly, "What kind of car is this?"  
"Ferrari. Ya know what that is, right love?" he asked.

I glared. "Of course I do. Do I look stupid to you?"  
"Of course not my little desert flower," he said smoothly.

I snorted at the nickname and turned my head to the side to stare out the tinted window at nothing. It was too dark to see anything, especially with the extra restraint of tinted windows. The ride was long and boring and worst of all, silent. Dead silent. August didn't seem bothered by the silence, seeing as he made no attempt to speak and didn't turn on the radio.

When the car stopped and August finally killed the engine, I had no idea how long we'd been driving or in what direction. So I had no idea where we were. Without a word, August exited the car and I followed suit. I closed my door and turned in the direction of the lights. We were in a village center, across the street from a long line of stores and businesses. It seemed very familiar but it took me a moment to remember where I knew this place from.

Blairing. A town not too far from Hollow Creek but just a little bigger. The town that unknowingly housed the watering hole of every psychic vampire in the tri-state area; _Nightmare_.

"We're going to _Nightmare_," I said, not asked. I could see the alley that I followed Will into from here.  
"I take it you've been here before," he said. It was a statement, not a question. He came around the front of the car and put an arm around my waist.

"You know the answer to that," I muttered as he began to lead me towards the alley that led to _Nightmare._  
"Well I suppose I do. New travels fast in the psychic vampire world," he said.

"But you're not a psychic vampire, are you?" I pried.  
"Nobody here has to know that," he said cryptically. _Sketchy . . . _But when wasn't he?

"You know, Will's probably going to be here," I warned. I was actually wasn't lying. I had a hunch that Will would be here. After our breakup, he'd been sort of spiraling. He was on some kind of wild, rebellious, slutty kick. I felt like he was trying to prove a point. Maybe to me, maybe to everybody. I felt like he wanted to show everybody that he didn't need me - that nobody would spoil his fun. Which is why he was riding motorcycles, fooling around with cougars, and snorting coke like nobody's business. He was trying to prove that I hadn't changed him. He was trying to show that he was still the same rebellious, promiscuous, reckless, fun-loving druggie he'd always been. And what better way to prove that to himself then by going to his favorite club and getting drunk off his ass?

"So?" he asked simply.  
"He doesn't know you're . . . not normal," I said, not sure what to call August. He wasn't a psychic vampire and he obviously wasn't human? Or was he? A human with enhanced abilities?

"Well, then tonight he's going to find out. That is, if he's even 'ere," he said, completely at ease. It made sense though. Why would August view Will as a threat? He was much more powerful then Will . . . Not that Will would ever challenge him. Will just couldn't be bothered. He was too busy seeking pleasure in women, drugs, parties, and booze.

"Suit yourself," I said flippantly. When he led me into the alley I started having horridly vivid flashbacks. Every step I took, I got a flash of the night I'd followed Will into this alley. I kept getting flickers of his leather jacket and his colorful hair. Every time my heel clicked against the dry ground I was reminded of my flat boots splashing in the puddles. The worst flash was when the door was in our sight. I remembered seeing Will in that very spot, knocking on that very door. All these flashbacks made me want to cry, reminding me of a time when things were simple. When Will and I were friends and my only problem was Will being abused. It seemed mild in comparison to my new issues, which was sad.

August knocked on the door and all I could hear on the other side of it was loud music and yelling - no thoughts. The door opened to reveal a large, thought-less bouncer who let us in - obviously assuming we were both psychic vampires. And what reason would he have to think otherwise? Both of our minds were shielded.

Inside, everything looked the basically same as it had last month. Exotic dancers on stripper poles dancing on raised platforms, low lights, a band playing violent music on a stage across the room. There were different paintings on the walls; all dark and disturbing depictions of seductive demons. The ceiling still had a mock Sistine Chapel painting on it showing hell instead of heaven.

This time though, I fit in with the exotic clientele. I didn't have a tattoo or piercings or dyed hair like a lot of them, but I had on skimpy black clothes, and that made me a member of the club. But by comparison to some of these women, I looked like a nun in my slutty dress. At least I had all my clothes on.

"Would ya like a drink princess?" August asked  
"Alright," I relented warily. I was just going to make sure to keep my drink guarded at all times. Didn't need August slipping some kind of voodoo potion in it . . . or a roofie.

He led me into the bar and I was thankful that Will wasn't in here. I sighed in relief and sat down at the bar next to August.  
"Two glasses of red wine," August told the bartender. The man pulled out a large bottle of wine from underneath the counter and poured two glasses. He handed one to each of us.

"Cheers," August said, raising his glass.  
"Cheers," I mumbled, clanking my glass lightly against his. I took a sip and made a slight face. The taste wasn't particularly bad . . . I just wasn't used to it. Personally I preferred the Elixir.

We were quiet for a few moments, just drinking in silence. I never once let go of my drink or let it out of my sight. Just to be safe. I could feel the buzz sinking in as I finished my wine. I really did not want to be drunk. I doubted it was possible for me to get as hammered as I had last time though, unless I took Elixir. God only knows what they put in those. A simple glass of wine wouldn't be enough to get me drunk off my ass.

"How about we go back into the private lounge?" August suggested.  
"Private lounge?" I inquired.

"It's just a little back room. It's a more relaxing atmosphere," he said.  
"Alright. Sounds interesting," I agreed, getting up from my chair.

August followed suit and put a hand on the small of my back to guide me towards a door in the back of the bar. He pushed it open and a dark paneled hallway was revealed. A few people were moving about from room to room, but not all of them looked like they belonged in the party. There was a pair of pierced lovers making out off to the side. a trio of goth girls with locked arms walking in our direction, and a guy with a bright orange Mohawk who disappeared around a corner. But there were also a few people who were dressed more like August. There was a man with a shock of silver hair and a designer suit, a woman in her late thirties wearing a ball gown, and various other sophisticated individuals.

The door behind us blocked out most of the sound from the party, but not all of it. August led me down the hallway and I noted how all of the doors we passed were thick, blocking out all noise from behind them. I wondered what was going behind those heavy doors. If I was someone like Will, someone with a dirty mind, my thoughts would have immediately been privy to the most sexual option. But since I was more analytic and observant then Will, I had reason to believe that some of the gatherings behind those doors were business meetings, not recreational meetings. I thought back to what Will had said to me the first time I'd been here. _"More goes on here than just partying." _I had originally thought that he meant hooking up, but if I had thought about it more, I would have realized that, to Will, partying and hooking up were one in the same. That meant that something completely unrelated was going on here. Based on August's formal clothing, I had reason to believe he was also involved.

"This is it," he said, pushing open one of the doors. We stepped inside and I decided that this was certainly not a business meeting. It seemed as if we had stepped into some kind of Persian lounge. The lighting was bright and pinkly tinted. The walls were dark wood and draped in decorative rugs. The floor itself was one, great, bright red, Persian rug. Across the room was a polished wooden bar with meals being served by a bartender who appeared to have been of middle-Eastern descent. There were small polished wooden tables placed sporadically about the room with a few occupants sitting at them, eating and drinking. In one corner there were three large arm chairs around a coffee table. And in the other corner, there was a huge stack of multicolored that looked to be made of silk.

The room wasn't empty, but it wasn't crowded either. There were about fifteen or so patrons - some looked as refined as August and others looked like prostitutes or thugs. Although, only three people _really _got my interest. The three people lounging on the stack of pillows; Will, Xana, and a girl I did not know.

Will looked good. And by that I meant that he seemed happy . . . He was smiling like a naughty little child and had a twizzler caught between his teeth. He was dressed in jeans, a grey sleeveless shirt, and motorcycle boots. He was laying on Xana's lap - his head resting on her abdomen, his body between her legs while she played with his hair and sipped a cocktail.

The other girl was laying on her stomach, her head supported in her hands as she kicked her bare legs in the air restlessly. I didn't recognize her but she certainly was . . . interesting. She looked around my age but was even shorter. She had shoulder length curly blonde hair with light blue, light pink, and yellow streaks in it. There was glitter in her hair too. Her eye make up was . . . insane. Rainbow colored designs were painted underneath one eye, looking like rainbow claws were extending down from it. Her other eye had a black star painted around it. She had two hot pink rings in her lip and one in her eyebrow. She was wearing black shorts and a pink tube top.

"Well what do ya know? There's William right now," August said.  
I immediately turned so that my back was to Will, dragging August with me by the arm. "You knew he would be here, didn't you?" I hissed, gripping his arm tightly.

"And how would I know that?" he asked in a voice that matched mine for it's hushed tone.  
"The same way you know all the things you shouldn't," I growled.

"I'm not here for William. I'm here for -" he began.  
"Marshal," I cut him off, nodding as I caught sight of the dark haired British prick strolling towards us in a designer suit with a cocktail in his hand.

"Marshal," August said in agreement but also in acknowledgment as the taller foreign freak came over and put his hands on August's shoulders roughly.  
"Auggie, Auggie, Auggie," Marshall thrummed, causing August to flinch.

August sighed in annoyance. "I'd rather ya didn't call me that."  
"Why not Auggie?" he teased.

August grinded his teeth together. "You remember Amunet, don't ya Marshal?" he asked.  
"Oh yes, the lady who's much too pretty for ya," he said, grabbing my hand and kissing it like they did in movies, "Yes, I remember her."

"I remember you too," I said levelly, lowering my eyelids at him.  
August looked back and forth between us for a moment. "Princess, why don't ya get us some drinks?"

"Do I look like your fucking waitress?" I growled at him.  
August laughed nervously and grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to him. "Sweetheart," he said in a sinisterly sweet voice, "I thought you agreed to behave."

"I agreed to come here, I agreed to nothing else," I snarled.  
He inhaled sharply, like he was trying not to loose it. "Why don't you go get yourself a drink while Marshal and I talk in private?" he inquired tightly, "How 'bout it . . .love?"

"Fine," I growled, pulling my arm out of his grasp and stalking away from them. I went over to the bar and sat down with a frustrated sigh.  
"What'll it be?" the bartender inquired cheerfully.

"Elixir," I said gloomily.  
"Comin' up," she said.

I sighed and couldn't help but let my eyes wander over to where Will was. He wasn't looking at me but the way that he was quite obviously _not _looking at me implied that he knew that I was here. Not to mention the tense set of his shoulders which implied that my presence stressed him out. Only I could cause a man so much distress even when he was at a party and being fawned over by two harlots. Even the aforementioned harlots had noticed the change in him, which I only knew because I was eavesdropping.

"Hey, what's a matter Jailbait?" Xana wondered, pushing his hair back from his face and planting an upside down kiss on his forehead. I seethed.  
He shrugged and then shook his head as if to clear it. He then decorated his face with a stunning smile. "Nothing," he said convincingly, "Just saw an ex-girlfriend of mine."

Xana scanned the room briefly. Her eyes paused on me and she scowled at me, I glared back. "Oh, _her_," she said, not even attempting to lower his voice.  
"Who?" the blonde asked, looking around.

"The high priced hooker at the bar," Xana said. I grinded my teeth together. I'd rather be a high priced hooker then a cheap slut . . .  
The blonde looked at me and then looked me up and down. "What a _floooozzzy_," she said, "You were smart for breaking up with her."

Will paused for a brief second. "I didn't break up with her. She broke up with me," he said. He didn't sound very proud.  
"Wait - _she _broke up with _you?" _she demanded, seeming shocked. To be honest, I didn't blame her for her surprise. No sane woman would break up with a sexy sweetheart like Will.

"Yeah. But keep in mind, this was after she cheated on me with a British tool but before she spread a nasty rumor about me," he said bitterly.  
"What kind of rumor?" blondie inquired.

"Little Lyn . . ." Xana warned.  
"It's fine Xaxa. It doesn't bother me," Will said to her, putting up a hand, and then turning to the one called Little Lyn, "The rumor was that I went down on her like religiously."

"Oh, oh, oh. Was it true?" Little Lyn asked, waggling her eyebrows deviously.  
"No way! You know me better then that Lynie. I would _never_ do something so _demeaning_," he said in a flirty tone that implied that he _would _and was considering it at that very moment.

"Oh _never. _Not a southern gentlemen like yourself," she responded in the same tone.  
"That's right. My mama taught me to respect women," he said, grinning.

"And what if they don't want to be respected?" Little Lyn asked in deviously flirtatious voice.  
"Yeah. What's mama say about that?" Xana chimed in.

"Hmmm. That's kind of a paradox, you know? How to respect a women's wishes to disrespect her?" he pondered.  
"How 'bout a little less thinkin' and a lot more drinkin?" Little Lyn suggested, handing Will her black cocktail which rested on the floor next to her.

Will inspected it for a moment. "I know you put something in this," he said, smiling as he threw some back.  
"And yet you drink it anyway . . ." she muttered.

"Mhm," he mumbled, drinking more.  
"It's Billy we're talking about," Xana said, pulling his hair back from his forehead and giving him another upside down kiss. She was awfully affectionate without being overly sexual.

"True," Little Lyn agreed.  
"Mhmmm," Will moaned, "Lynie, what's in this exactly?"

"You like?" she asked, giggling.  
He moaned again and nodded.

"Try and guess," she said.  
He closed his eyes for a moment. "Based on the numbness in my fingers I'm gonna have to say a low dose of PCP," he decided.

"Damn," she said, "You're like a walking pharmaceutical encyclopedia."  
"That's our Billy," Xana said lovingly.

"Amunet," came a voice, much closer to me.

I jumped from my seat guiltily even though I'd done nothing wrong. August stood behind me, a smiling Marshal to his side. He didn't seem particularly happy, but something told me that that had more to do with his little friend then with me.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his eyes on something in my hand.  
I looked down and realized I was holding an untouched Elixir in my hand. I hadn't even realized that the bartender had handed it to me I'd been so busy eavesdropping. "Not really," I said.

His eyes flickered over to Will. "Spying on William and his lady friends?" he inquired smugly. I wasn't worried about them overhearing. They could probably hear us if they focused, but I doubted they did much of that.  
"And what if I am?" I snapped.

"Relax love," he soothed, putting a hand on my shoulder and letting it slide down my arm.  
I snorted. "Whatever." My eyes wandered back to Will, who was now laughing and being tickled by the freaky blonde known as 'Little Lyn.' I scowled.

August laughed once in amusement. "Kaitlyn Kage - a strange girl I hear. Though not somebody I'd suggest quarreling with."  
"What makes you think I was planning on messing with her?" I demanded.

"By the death glare you were giving her," he said simply.  
"I was not -" I began.

He put a finger to my lips. "Save it. I'll be right back. I only came over here to tell you that I must go get something for Marshal. I'll be back in a few minutes."  
I exhaled angrily. "Whatever."

He pecked me on the forehead before leaving. I grunted in annoyance and sat back down at the bar. I took a sip of the Elixir and reveled in the spicy taste of it as it crackled across my tongue. Once ingested, it immediately gave me a little boost. It felt nice. I wondered vaguely what was in it. I was about to ask the bartender but then my focus was grabbed by the encounter Will was having with Kaitlyn and Xana.

"So, feelin' less bummed out now?" giggled Little Lyn of Will.  
"Very!" Will enthused. His answer didn't really make sense but the reason was obvious. He was high as a kite, categorized by his stoner eyes; bloodshot, red rimmed, and pink shadowed.

"Epic. Now let's go," she said, jumping to her feet, "It's boring in here. Let's go have some _real _fun." Now that she was standing I could see that she had a belly button ring - thanks to her revealing top. Her belly button ring was hot pink and had a circular charm hanging from it. _"Eat Me" _read in sparkly silver letters. Ironic . . .

"Ay ay captain!" Will agreed enthusiastically, getting up as well. He swayed slightly but remained on his feet.  
"I can't here you!" Little Lyn sang. She had a pair of stoner eyes to match Will's.

"Then get a fucking hearing aid," suggested Xana, who was still lounging as she took a sip of her cocktail. She didn't look like she was planning on getting up either.  
"Look who's talking Grandma," Little Lyn teased.

"Stick a pacifier in it," Xana snapped back.  
Little Lyn flipped her off and Xana smirked, taking it as a victory.

"Ladies, ladies. . .ladies," Will said, sounding intoxicated, "Let's not fight. We must stand together in this time of crisis!"  
Xana laughed. "Go dance Jailbait," she told him, waving him away.

"Sure you don't wanna come Xaxa?" he asked.  
"Nah. You two go play. I'll chill here. As long as you plan on comin' back Jailbait," she said, smirking.

Of course he would. The lion cub always comes back to the den of his cougar.

"I would never leave you Xaxa!" he exclaimed, "Not even . . . not even if I was threatened to under penalty of death of rabid bunnies."  
"One of these days, I'm getting you a bunny," Little Lyn said, "Seeing as you talk about them so damn much."

"I'll chip in," Xana said, "Now _go_."  
"See ya!" Little Lyn said, linking arms with Will.

"C'mon Lynie - we're off to see the wizard!" he cheered happily, attempting to skip but mostly just stumbling along with Little Lyn. Xana rolled her eyes and laughed, picking up a magazine from the floor. She flipped through it lazily, occasionally glancing at me maliciously.

I sighed and took another sip of my Elixir. I felt slightly buzzed. I kind of liked it, but not just because it made me feel good, because it made me feel farther away. Farther away from my problems. I took another long sip, and another, and another. Until it was empty. I placed it down on the bar a little less then gently.

"I'll have another," I said to the bartender.  
"Sure thing," she said, turning around to prepare it. It only took her a minute. Just sixty seconds before another glorious Elixir sat before me.

"What's in these?" I asked, taking a long gulp.  
"Vodka, wine, cola, pop rocks, and a few other things for flavor," she said vaguely. I was too distracted by the mentioned ingredients to care about the unmetioned.

"Pop rocks?" I repeated, surprised.  
"You know the tingly sensation you get on your tongue? That's cause of that," she said.

"Cool," I said, taking another sip.  
"Someone's certainly enjoying the open bar," came August's voice from behind me. I turned to see him standing there, alone. Marshal was no longer with him.

"More then I enjoy _your_ company," I growled.  
"Why is it that your always in a bad mood?" he inquired.

"It's impossible to be in a _good_ mood around _you_," I snarled.  
"I let you get away with a lot Amunet," he said tensely, "You could at least pretend to appreciate it."

"_Appreciate_ being oppressed?" I demanded, "I don't _think _so."  
"I'm not oppressing you, I'm protecting you," he said, "With me, you're safe. There are people out there who wouldn't treat you half as well."

"Can you give me their names? Because I think I'd rather be treated like shit by any asshole then be treated like a princess by _you_," I snarled. Suddenly, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me out of my chair, causing me to drop my Elixir. Which landed on the carpeted floor and spilled, staining it.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. Everyone looked up, even Xana, as he began to drag me. "Hey! Stop it! Let me go! Let me _go_!" I screamed, struggling against him. Now, everyone was staring.  
"She's drunk," August said to all the concerned, staring people. Everyone seemed to buy it, except the bartender.

"I am _not_! Now let me _go!_" I screeched. Had this been a week ago, I would have wished Will was here to save me. Now, I was glad he wasn't here. I couldn't handle seeing him stand by idly with a look of nonchalance on his face as August brutally dragged me out of the bar. Because now, he hated me too much to ever care what happened to me. And seeing that hate up close . . . It would just hurt too much.

"Shut up!" August snarled at me as he dragged me out of the bar, kicking and screaming. He began to me down the hallway in a similar way.  
"She's drunk," he told the concerned onlookers.

"Nooooo!" I screamed, "No I'm not! Help me! Please help me!"  
They all looked at me like I was just some crazy drunk. Some rolled their eyes.

"_Please _help me!" I begged, thrashing wildly, "Please don't let him hurt me! _Please!_"  
Everybody heard me screaming, but nobody came to help me.

August pulled me through some door into a dark alley, one very similar to the series of alleys we'd taken to get here. The second the door closed behind us August slammed me across the face. Hard. I yelped in pain and pressed a hand to my burning cheek. I probably would have fallen over from the shock of the blow but he had a tight hold on my wrist, keeping me in place.

"That's for being an ungrateful little _bitch_," he snarled, grabbing my hair roughly and slamming my face into the wall. My cheek burned with red hot pain.  
"What the _hell _is wrong with you?" I demanded, shocked and outraged.

"Don't talk to me like that!" he shouted, throwing me to the ground. Pain radiated throughout my side from the blow of hitting the hard concrete. I scrambled to my feet, using the wall to help me. August waited until I was all the way up before grabbing me and slamming me into the stone wall.

"Maybe that'll teach ya some respect," he growled, grabbing me by my hair and shoving me away. Thanks to my high heels I stumbled and fell to the hard ground on my hands and knees. I was about to try and get back up again but suddenly there was a jab to my side, causing me to fall over onto my other side.

"How does that feel? Huh? Still think you don't want to be treated like a princess?" he snarled as he began to brutally kick my side over and over and over again.  
"Please stop! Stop please! Please, please, please," I begged as I sobbed in pain, "Please stop! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I was wrong! Please forgive me! Please stop!"

After an eternity of August brutally kicking me and me begging for him to stop, he finally did. I curled up into a ball, crying and bleeding from my hands and knees. I sobbed and sobbed, feeling sick with pain. My cheek and jaw burned with pain and I tasted blood in my mouth. I felt something hot and moist, blood, dripping from my palms and knees. My side hurt the worst. It was throbbing with intense pain - pain worse then I'd ever felt before. Even when Kristy had pushed me down the stairs.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up princess," he finally said, helping me off the ground. I sniffled and, despite my new fear of him, leaned against him.  
"Sh, sh, shhh," he soothed, stroking my hair, "It's okay now love. I won't hurt you gain. I'm sorry. Now c'mon, let me take you home."

He began to lead me out of the alley and I limped along, crying the entire time. I felt like hell. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that someone had just beat me up. Nobody had ever beat me up. And now my boyfriend had just abused me.


	38. Smart Girl

**Smart Girl**

Fear makes you smarter and pain helps you learn. That was the conclusion I had come to after my horrendous Friday night. The episode with August had taught me that I'd been stupid to think that he _actually _loved me. I'd thought that he loved me too much to really hurt me. I'd thought that I was safe around him because he loved me. I'd been wrong. August didn't love me. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. If August loved me in the slightest, he would have never hurt me like that.

The pain and suffering had helped me learn that. Every time one of my bruises throbbed I was reminded that August didn't love me - reminded me that I wasn't safe. And that scared me. But the fear was good . . . It kept me on my toes. Some would call it paranoia. I called it watchfulness. I couldn't trust August. He wasn't safe. I couldn't trust anybody. Nowhere was safe.

Which is why I had gone out and bought the stiletto switchblade knife that I now held in my hand. It was the perfect weapon for me. It was small and easy concealable, but still deadly enough to give me a sense of security. It was about eight inches long, with the blade slightly longer then the hilt.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room, extracting and retracting the blade over and over again. I'd been practicing the motion of it all weekend and I was sure that I now had it down pact. So I closed it up and slid into the pocket of my black jeans. I lifted my eyes back up to the mirror and cringed. My reflection was beastly. It reminded me of why I'd bought that knife.

My hair was down, because putting it up would only make the two bruises on my face stand out even more. The first bruise was the worst. It was ghastly and purple and dominated my entire left cheek. The other bruise was smaller and rested on my left temple, but I'd cut my bangs and arranged them in such a way as to hide that bruise. My split lip was just beginning to heal, but I couldn't say the same for my scratched up hands. They'd all closed up, but they still bled if I agitated them. I would have bandaged my hands but that would just draw more attention. The worst of my injuries though, were far from sight, luckily. My shredded knees were hidden under my jeans and my bruised side was covered by my long sleeved bright red shirt. My entire side was covered with a network of black and blue, that hurt every time I moved. But at least, nobody could see it.

I turned sharply away from the mirror, the sight of my own reflection making me ill. I slipped my feet into my boots and heaved my bag off the floor. My side throbbed from the effort but I shook it off. I slowly made my way from my room and down the stairs, trying to be quiet. My mom was still asleep after her busy weekend and I didn't want to wake her up. She'd been gone all weekend on a 'business trip' again. At least, that was the story she'd told me. I didn't know why she bothered. She knew that I knew she was actually lying. Well, actually that depends on whether or not you count shaking up with the hot eighteen year old intern from her office in a five star hotel a 'business trip.'

On Friday I'd been angry that she'd ditched me again, but now, I was glad. She'd been gone all weekend, which meant she hadn't seen my bruises. And if it was up to me, she never would. It wouldn't be hard for me to avoid my mother for a week or so while the bruises healed. Or, at least until the ones on my face were faded enough to pass off without an interrogation.

I exited the house through the front door and saw August's Ferrari in the driveway, as expected. I sighed. I hadn't seen him since Friday. After getting me cleaned up and making me dinner and putting me to bed, he'd vanished. I understood why. During the car rise home, at the house, all night - I'd been as silent as a grave as I gave him the death stare. Obviously, he'd picked up that I was in an even worse mood then usual and decided to take off. Personally, I appreciated that he'd given me some space to think about what had happened.

I made my way slowly and painfully to his car and climbed in. August smiled at me as I sat down and closed the door behind me. "Ello princess," he greeted me cheerily, "How was your weekend? Feelin' better?"  
"Don't even talk to me," I snarled, closing my eyes, "I'm pissed at you." Well actually, I wanted him dead. But I figured that wouldn't go over well.

"Aw love, I said I was sorry," he apologized for the millionth time, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I forget how fragile your kind are."  
"I don't care," I growled, "You don't ever put your hands on me."

I was talking shit but really, I was afraid of him. Afraid that he'd hurt me again. But I had to work through the fear if I didn't want to become his lap dog. Because once he realized I was afraid of him, I was all his. I had to keep up the facade. I had to keep acting like I was all big and bad. I had to play my strengths. And my strength was August's 'love' for me. Now, he didn't really love me, but he thought he did. I'd decided that August was incapable of real love and what he felt for me was the closest thing possible for him. But since he thought he loved me, all I had to do was play up to that. I had to make him feel guilty for hurting me. I had to make him feel like he could 'earn' my love. As long as I kept him trying to please me, he was all mine. He thought he was the boss, but really, I was the one pulling the strings.

"I'm sorry love," he said sincerely as he began driving, "I'll never do it again."  
I doubted that. Which was why I had bought that knife.

"I'm still pissed," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. I had to be careful about this. I had to seem annoyed but I couldn't seem like I hated him. If he knew I really hated him, he'd try and beat me into loving him. But if I made it seem like he could earn my love other ways, then I was safe. I just had to seem irked but not unswayable. Because if I made him angry enough he might snap again.

"What can I do to make it up to you love?" he asked, "I'll do anything."  
"Anything?" I repeated, pretending to seem interested. I wasn't really. The only thing I wanted was Will, but I knew that August didn't count that as 'anything.'

"Yes. Anything you want, it's yours. I'd do anything to make it up to you love," he vowed.  
Crack the whip. Who belongs to who now . . . love?

"Would you . . . buy me a car?" I asked with fake hopefulness, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He didn't know it, but this was actually a test. A test to see how rich he was - to get some info into his life.  
"What kind?" he asked automatically. Well, that answers that question. He was obviously rich if he was willing to buy me a car. But _how _rich was he?

"Well I don't know much about cars," I said honestly, but twirled my hair a little for affect, "But something sporty . . . and Italian."  
"Like an Italian sports car?" he inquired, smiling slightly.

"Yeah. Can I have one of those?" I asked innocently.  
"Of course you can princess," he promised, "I know just the car. The Alfa Romeo 4c. It'd be perfect for you. Cute, feminine, convertible."

"Ohh!" I enthused fakly, clapping my hands, "That sounds great! Can I have a red one?"  
He laughed. "Of course you can my little desert flower."

"Yay!" I went on, pretending to be shallow and stupid. I had to act angry with him, and then become happy when he bought me something. Believe it or not, I was not doing this because I was a gold digger. I had enough of my own money. Not enough to buy Italian sports cars on a whim, but enough for me. This was actually my style of interrogating. Without knowing it, August was giving up information about himself by buying me thinks. Credit cards could be traced, and that would help me find out more about him. Like his phone number, or where he lived, or if he had a family, or where he got all this money. Any information I could get my hands on could be crucial.

He laughed again. "I think I found your soft spot love," he chuckled. "Sports cars."  
"Oh yes," I lied enthusiastically, "I love sports cars!"

"I see that. But a car is a big gift. Which is why I'm going to make a deal with you. If you let me buy you some new clothes and you promise to wear them, I'll buy you the car you want. What do ya say love?" he asked.  
I thought about it. Rejecting this proposal would be stupid. And possibly suicide. "Okay," I agreed, pretending to be excited. It wasn't that bad of a deal. The clothes August would pick out for me would probably be things I would wear on my own. Not like he'd make me dress like a slut or anything. He'd probably make me look like a fifties housewife. Which I actually wouldn't mind, as long as it helped me with my scheme.

"Great," he said, just as we pulled into the school.  
"Can I come with you to pick out clothes for me?" I asked.

"Of course ya can princess," he promised, "But I get the final vote on everything."  
"Okay!" I said happily. God, this acting thing was going to get exhausting. I had to act like a bitch around Will, shallow around August, and invincible around everybody else. God . . .

"We'll go the mall after school then," he said.  
"Sounds great," I enthused.

"I'm sure it will be love," he said as he parked the car. I noticed people staring at the racing red Ferrari. Of course they were.  
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed suddenly as August was about to kill the engine.

"What is it?" he asked.  
"I forgot to ask you to stop at the cafe so I could get my mocha," I said mournfully, pouting.

"Oh. Don't be upset love," he said, "We can go back."  
"But I don't want to miss first period again," I whined, "Mrs. Brooks already hates me. . . .But I really want my mocha."

"Then I'll go get it for ya," he said agreeably, "You go to class."  
And he thought _he _was the boss of me. Please. I could manipulate him into doing just about anything. Except giving me my life back. That was nonnegotiable.

"Aw really! Thanks!" I said happily, leaning over to hug him and peck him on the lips. It was the first time _I _had touched him. Ever.  
"No problem love. Now, off you go," he said, patting my ass lightly twice in a 'get going' way.

I had to repress a shudder even though the touch was really harmless. It just gave me horrid images of him spanking me like a naughty child for mouthing off instead of beating me. I wasn't sure which sounded worse - getting spanked or beaten. Beaten was more painful but being spanked was more degrading. I wasn't sure why I was thinking about all this, not like I would ever get a choice on the form of capital punishment I would be receiving from him.

"I'll see you before second period," I chirped, climbing out of the car and waving at him as he drove away. Once he was out of sight I released a breath of relief, let the smile fall from my lips, and relaxed my posture. I'd hit it well, but in his presence, I'd actually been very stressed and frightened. Now that I was away from him and within the contours of safety that school provided, I felt relaxed. Well that is, until I turned around and saw Mike and Heather standing outside his van. They were both staring at me.

"Oh my God," Heather said, making a move towards me. I wondered vaguely if my excellent eavesdropping skills were thanks to my psychic vampire status. Could normal humans hear this well?  
"Heather no," Mike said, grabbing her wrist to keep her in place. His hold was light though. He would never be rough with her.

"Mike, look at her!" she exclaimed, pulling out of his grasp, "I need to help her."  
"She's not your responsibility," he told her. He didn't get what her hang up was. He just assumed I had an accident. Mike had been brainwashed by Will into thinking that all injuries were just accidents.

"Look, I know you don't like her, and I get that," she said understandably, "But I think she might be in some kind of trouble . . . And I have to help her."  
"Why Heather?" he asked, desperately trying to understand, "Why do _you _have to help her?"

"Because she's my best friend," she said and walked away. Mike didn't stop her. I thought I was going to cry. Nobody had ever called me their friend before. And now Heather had called me her best friend . . . Even after the way I'd treated her the past week. Ever after all the wrong that I'd done to her - she still considered me her friend. She had faith in me - faith that I wasn't as bad as everyone thought. Faith that it wasn't my fault.

"Nettie," she exclaimed, running over to me and grabbing me by the shoulders, "Oh my God, what happened to you?"  
And this was why I hadn't been looking forward to today . . . "Ummm. . . There was an accident. I tripped in my heels on Friday at this party."

She stared at me for a moment, looking for any other changes in my phisque that would convey that I was lying. "You did something different with your hair," she said. Of course she would notice that . . .  
"Yeah. So?" I asked, afraid she would realize that I'd changed it to hide another bruise.

"I like it," she said.  
"Oh," was all I could say in response.

"Are you sure you just fell?" she asked, not one hundred percent sold.  
"Yes. I'm sure," I lied through my teeth.

"Okay . . . I'll give you the benefit of the doubt . . . But if this happens again," she warned.  
"It won't. That's why their called 'accidents,'" I snapped at her.

She sighed but wasn't angry. She knew there was a reason for my strange behavior and didn't blame me. "Whatever. I have to go . . . I have stuff to do," she said vaguely before dashing off to Mike's side. I furrowed my eyebrows. Well that was awfully odd of her. She knew something . . . She'd gotten a lead on August. I zeroed in on her thoughts.

_"I can't believe it! Diplomatic plates! He had _diplomatic plates_! This is so great. It'll be a synch to find out more about him now. They don't just give out diplomatic plates. You have to be really important to get those. I bet I can dig up tons of dirt on him now! This is great!" _

How the hell had I _missed_ that? _Diplomatic plates. _That was the kind of crucial information that could change my life. How had I failed to notice that? If August had diplomatic plates then someone in his family was a hot-shot diplomat. I could find tons of information about his family and his past now. Heather was right, this really was great.

I was thinking through all the possible findings I could discover as I made my way up to the school and inside. My mind was a million miles away. Which was why I was too shocked to scream when someone grabbed me and put a hand over my mouth. I was dragged into an oddly familiar dark room. A door slammed but I could still see fine due to the light coming in through the slits in the door. I looked around a realized I was in a janitors' closet with Will.

"Really? This again?" I asked in annoyance, giving him a once over. I had expected him to be just as bruised as me, considering he was supposed to have spent the weekend at his dad's. But, aside from the 'bruises' on his neck, he seemed unscathed.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.  
"What are you talking about?" I asked, surprised by how passionately angry he seemed. Maybe he didn't hate me as much as I thought he did . . .

"How did you get that bruise? And what happened to your hands?" he elaborated.  
"What's it you?" I snapped defensively.

"Did August hit you?" he demanded.  
"I - I - he um . . ." I stammered for a moment. But then I stopped and took a moment to compose myself. "No. He did not. I had an accident," I lied straight faced.

"Cut the crap Amunet," he snarled, "Xana told me about the fight you had with August in the bar on Friday. And then you show up to school all bruised up. Don't think I don't know what's going on."  
"Nothing's going on," I lied, still surprised that I was having this conversation with him, "I tripped in my heels on Friday. That fight with him was nothing."

"Not according to Xana," he said, "She said it was horrible. She was really worried about you. She thought he was going to hurt you."  
"Well, he didn't," I said.

"I'm not stupid," he growled, "I know what's going on here."  
"Nothing's going on here!" I exclaimed, "I. Fell."

"Oh don't pull that crap with me Amunet," he said, "I've been playing this game longer then you have."  
"Yeah. I know," I snarled, "Speaking of which, did Daddy give you those _bruises_ on your neck? Or are those presents from Xana and _Little Lyn_."

"Amunet. Knock it off," he said, "I'm just trying to help you."  
"_Why_?" I demanded desperately, "I mean, you _hate _me."

Really, I was just hoping he was going to deny hating me. But no such luck.

"I know," he said. "But that doesn't mean you deserve to be abused. Nobody does."  
"Well that's awfully sweet of you William," I growled as antagonistically as possible, "But I'm _not_ being abused and I _don't_ need your help."

He sighed and pressed a hand up to his forehead. Now that he'd lifted his hand I was able to see that his hand was bruised and he had a white brace around his wrist. He could ride around on his high horse all day long if he wanted, telling me how August had no right to hurt me. But at the end of the day, he was still being abused himself.

"What happened to your wrist Will?" I sneered, "Did you _fall?_" I didn't like being mean to Will, but if he was going to be a hypocrite . . .  
"No," he said bluntly, "My dad beat me up."

I was shocked had had admitted to it . . . To me, the girl he hated for breaking his heart. I didn't even know how to respond to that. I was silent for a moment, struggling to think of something to say. "Well . . . If you think I'm going to confess that August beat me up too, you're wrong," I said, "Because he didn't."

"Whatever Amunet. But remember, just because you're a huge bitch doesn't mean he has a right to hurt you," he said before exiting the closet. I laughed once - a pathetic little laugh. Will actually thought that the reason I was letting August hit me was because I thought I _deserved _it. That was a laugh. Maybe I did deserve it . . . But that didn't mean I was going to let August give it to me.


	39. Clever Girl

**Clever Girl**

"Well look who's here. The stepford slut."  
"You know Aaron you don't really _need _to announce it every time my ex is within a mile radius."

I sighed and adverted my eyes from the cluster lounging on the front steps of the school. Self-consciously I adjusted the tiny dress I wore that August had bought for me on our shopping trip last night. It was an adorable little number but a tad revealing. It was a form fitting, short, red, halter with white polka dots. I wore matching tie-up wedges and a red bow in my loose hair. I liked the outfit but it was a little too slutty for my tastes. But apparently not for August's.

He was smiling like the cat who just ate the canary as he led me up to the school the next day. He was smug at having gotten me into this skimpy attire - proud at having 'broken' me. Well, whatever made him trust me. I just needed his trust. I needed to get close to him. Once he trusted me, I could use that to get a little more freedom. And more freedom would allow me to investigate him more - learn more about him. And once I knew more about him, I could use that information to destroy him.

But still, that didn't mean I was enjoying being paraded around in these slutty fashions like a Victoria's Secret model. The outfits he'd bought me were cute and retro, but looked more like lingerie then actual clothes. Which drew even more attention to me at school - something I did not need. Not only did the revealing nature of my clothes draw extra attention, but the fact that I had changed my style once again. The first two days after the breakup I'd dressed normally for me - stylish, tasteful, and retro. And then I'd suddenly shifted to dressing like a ninja. And now I was back to dressing in retro styles - but this time from the intimate apparel section. The whip-lash fast changes drew almost as much attention as my bare legs.

Aaron was staring at them. He was pretending not to for Will's sake but he was. His eyes were glued to the way my dress hiked up slightly when I walked, imagining what it would be like to get underneath that fabric. Privately, he was dreaming of doing me on the sidewalk. But outwardly, he was acting like I was a cockroach he wished to squash, but only to appease Will.

Will didn't even seem to notice me though. He was lying on his back on the left stairs, surrounded by his band of loyal followers. He seemed . . . edgy. Not a trait he would acquire from any of his usual vices; weed, alcohol, meth. All those things hyped him up. And he was definitely not hyper now, but he was definitely high. His stoner eyes gave him away.

I was staring at him curiously as August and I went over to our usual bench, where we always sat before school. I didn't know why we did this. August just liked to sit out there and stare off into space as he played with my hair. I didn't mind though, because it gave me a chance to spy on Will.

"I know. But I was just warning you that Cindy Loo _Ho _was nearby," Aaron went on, defending himself from Will.  
Kristy laughed at his nickname for me. "Ha. Good one."

"I got an even better one," he said, "What about _Loose_-y Ricardo."  
"Oh I get it. Like _loose_," Kristy said, "Funny. Let me try. What about Sandra Do-Me."

Aaron, Mike, and Juliet laughed. "Nice one," Mike complimented, "But I got a better one. Marilyn Mon-_ho_."  
The foursome cackled again for a moment. Heather pulled Mike's hair reprimandingly, causing him to silence, but the three others kept chortling.

"Hey," Will's harsh voice was a sharp contrast to his friends' laughter, "Knock it off. All of you."  
They were all shocked by this rare flare of his temper, as was I.

"Knock what off?" Kristy asked, confused.  
"Making fun of Amunet," he growled, "I'm sick of you guys ragging on her. Cut it out. No more stepford slut, or Marilyn Mon-ho, or any other of your stupid nicknames."

"What the fuck do you care?" Aaron demanded, "I mean, you hate her right? She _cheated _on you. She ripped your heart out for God's sake."  
"She did not," he lied moodily, becoming defensive.

"Oh come off it," Aaron said, "We all _know _you had it bad for her."  
"Shut up Aaron," Will growled, "Before I fucking smack you."

"Calm down Will," Mike reprimanded, putting his foot lightly on Will's stomach from where he sat on the step just above him. Will pushed Mike's foot away and sat up, snarling and clenching his fists. His eyes flashed with anger as he turned around to glare up at Mike. It was so surreal, seeing Will so irrationally angry. I'd only seen him genuinely mad a handful of times, and those were always over important things. And never had he threatened to hurt anybody, even jokingly. Will was hardly known for his temper. He was usually such a sweetheart.

"Don't tell me what to do," he growled at Mike, getting up to face him.  
"Relax," Mike commanded, standing up as well. He was a full head taller then Will thanks to the extra step, but Will didn't seem intimidated.

"Leave me alone," he snarled at his best friend. He seemed manically angry, almost frantic.  
"Will, just take it easy," Heather jumped in, standing up as well.

"Nobody fucking asked you," Will growled, shocking Heather and everyone else, including me. Mike however, wasn't shocked so much as pissed at Will for having talked to Heather that way. In a cobra fast movement he reached out and grabbed Will by his hair. He pulled it slightly but even the gentle tug caused Will to squirm and whine like a puppy. Using his grip on Will's hair as a sort of leash to jerk the younger boy around as he pleased, Mike dragged Will off the stairs. Will complied to avoid unnecessary pain.

Watching this sickened me. I knew that Mike would never really hurt Will but watching Will get pushed and pulled around made me ill. It only made me think of how Will's father must treat him. It probably made Mike's rough hair pulling look like hand holding.

"Listen to me William; don't you ever talk to my girlfriend like that again? You understand?" Mike growled, using his grip on Will's hair to keep the squirming youth in place.  
"Fine," Will snapped, still struggling, "Now let me _go_."

"I'm not done talking to you _William_," Mike went on, putting extra emphasis on Will's full name, as if to promote obedience.  
"What," Will snarled the demand.

"You need to calm the fuck down," Mike told him, looking him dead in the eye, which caused Will to squirm more, "Cool it with the testosterone. Okay? You got that?"  
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Will said, but I doubted he knew or even cared about what he was agreeing to. He seemed like he would say anything to just get Mike to leave him alone already.

"Good. Now sit," Mike commanded harshly, using his grip on Will's hair to push him down onto the front step.  
Will glared up at him heatedly but said nothing, just rubbed his head like it hurt.

"And no more coke for you," Mike added before sitting down next to Will and knowingly extracting a bag of white powder from his left pocket. Will opened his mouth to protest but Mike silenced him with a glare. Will snorted and then turned away, biting his nails, which was something he never did. Mike sighed heavily before he threw the bag over to Aaron. He caught it and put it in his pocket, reminding himself to keep it away from Will. Because, as this experiment showed, Will did _not_ react well to cocaine.

Well, at least that explained his irrational anger. But I couldn't say I was happy about Will broadening his illegal substance experimentation.

"Keep that shit away from him," Mike told Aaron, "And get him some coffee or _something. _Because if he keeps acting like this I'm going to punch him and you don't know how sorry I'll be if I do that."  
"C'mon Kristy, let's get Billy here some coffee," Aaron said as he got up.

"Ready to go princess?"

August's voice right next to me snapped me out of spying. "Oh sure. Let's go," I said, getting up. August got up as well and rested his hand on the small of my back to guide me inside. By now, people had pretty much stopped thinking about us _every _time he saw us. We still got a few leers and a few mental slurs thrown in our direction, but it was not as bad as it had been last week. August paused outside my homeroom to peck me on the lips. I made no attempt to respond in any way.

"I'll see ya later my little Cleopatra," he said before departing. Thinking back, I couldn't recall a single time he'd called me Amunet. I'm sure he did . . . At some point. I just couldn't recall any. He always seemed to be calling me by some clever little nickname.

I sighed in annoyance as I stepped into my classroom, ignoring the vicious thoughts as I went to go sit at my usual desk. Will and Mike had not yet arrived and I was not surprised. I pulled out my I-Pod and cranked up the volume so loud my grandchildren would probably be deaf. I didn't care. I needed something to do while I waited for class to start. Mrs. Brooks was out gallivanting with the gym teacher most likely though so God only knew when she'd be back.

Evidently, after Will and Mike arrived. The two of them walked into class together. Well what Will was doing could only be described as stalking. I really had never seen him in such a foul mood. His forehead was dripping wet, sticking his bangs to his skin, and his hands were shaking. His angry, bloodshot eyes darted around the room as he drummed his fingers anxiously against the coffee cup in his hand. He was a certified wreck and he didn't seem to be enjoying it this time.

Mike draped a comforting arm around Will's shoulders as they stepped inside but Will shook it off and stomped away, glaring at anything that moved. He came and sat in his desk next to me so roughly that the desk shook. He took a sip of his coffee before slamming it down. He then placed his trembling hands at the top of his desk and dragged them across the surface, towards himself. The sweat on his hands left trails on the desk. He stared at his desk for a minute before beginning to nervously bite his nails, which I'd never seen him do before today. He was tapping his foot anxiously as well and drumming his fingers against the now wet surface of his desk.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at," he growled at me, which is when I realized I was staring, having removed my earphones without noticing.  
"Nothing," I mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with him because I knew it would upset him. This was the first time Will had ever acknowledged me during class since the breakup. Then again, he was never this totally gone during class before - or ever. He was fucking messed up and I really did not want to provoke him.

"That's what I thought," he snarled, looking away from me and biting the nails on his other hand. I sighed and pressed one of my manicured hands to my forehead. Dealing with Will's drug addiction was getting exhausting, and I wasn't even the one dealing with him. He wanted nothing to do with me now; so it was his friend's job to deal with him when he was this way. But still, having to watch him pump poison into himself . . . To have to see him slowly destroy his life . . . It was torturous to me. The worst part was that I had _had _the power to make him quit and I'd given it up. When we'd broken up he'd offered to quit cold turkey if I stayed with him. I looked back on that day, wishing I could have taken him up on his offer. But if I had, August would have killed him; which would have been counterproductive obviously. Not to mention soul crushing.

And that was another of my problems. August. I was still trying to dig up dirt on him. I had meant to do a little research on him last night, but he hadn't left until one. Which pissed me off, because I had hoped that knowing that he was the son of some diplomat would help me find something useful about him. But I'd been too exhausted when he'd left to do anything. I actually hoped that Heather had done a little research that I could sponge from her mind, but she'd thought nothing of August this morning. She'd been so preoccupied by Will's destructive behavior.

When the door slammed shut behind Mrs. Brooks I almost had a heart attack I'd been so lost in my thoughts. I wasn't the only one who jumped. Will looked like he was about to have some kind of aneurysm. He was gripping his desk tightly with trembling hands, his face still as stone. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Maybe he had. You never know with cocaine . . . It was crazy shit obviously.

"Sorry I'm late children," Mrs. Brooks apologized, straightening her blouse. As if she wasn't late every day. She began her lesson and I couldn't find a damn soul in that room who was paying attention to her as she blathered on. Even the honors students couldn't seem to focus on her lame lecture. Nobody was paying attention to her, least of all Will. He seemed like he was going through some kind of exorcism. He was tapping his foot about a mile a minute while raking his nails against his desk. It wasn't exactly loud, but it was distracting. More people were paying attention to Will then they were Mrs. Brooks. Which she somehow managed to notice.

"Mr. Sharp," she rebuked sharply, "Would you be so kind as to sit still? You're distracting your fellow classmates."  
"So?" he snarled, raking his nails against the desk again.

"I _know_ you're not defying me William . . ." she said, a threat in her voice.  
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," he growled. He was never so vicious - even when he'd bitched me out for 'spreading' that rumor about him last week.

"William, I suggest you quit while you're ahead," Mrs. Brooks said sternly.  
"And I _suggest _you leave me the hell alone," he snarled, his voice implying that it wasn't a suggestion at all.

"William!" Mrs. Brooks looked as if she was about to spontaneously combust, "Outside. Now!"  
He stood up from his desk so fast that he knocked it over, spilling his coffee all over the floor. The entire class, including, Mrs. Brooks was shocked. Mike was tempted to run over to Will and physically drag him out of the classroom.

"I told you to leave me alone!" he shouted at her, hands trembling.  
"William Sharp," Mrs. Brooks said in her meanest teacher voice, "To the office. Right now."

"Why should I?" he demanded, eyes darting everywhere but lingering nowhere, "You can't tell me what to do!"  
"Yes I certainly can," she said.

"You have no right," he snarled, "You're hardly a teacher at all. You spend more time blowing Coach then actually teaching!"  
The whole class gasped. Actually gasped. I threw my hand over my mouth like so many other girls in the room.

Mrs. Brooks seemed to be in total shock. She froze, her mind spinning. She didn't know what to do. Will had just revealed her biggest secret. That, not only was she fucking Coach, but she was also cheating on her husband - all at the same time. Her whole world could fall apart right then.

And that was when Mike decided it was time to get Will out of there. He jumped up from his desk in the back and ran to the front of the room and wrapped his arms around Will. He then proceeded to drag the struggling Will towards the door.

"C'mon Billy," he hissed in his ear, "It's time to go."  
"Let go of me!" Will shouted, thrashing angrily.

"Stop it," Mike accompanied the scolding with a tug to his captive's hair, which caused Will to make these little mewling sounds. He really did hate having his hair pulled. I mean, most people do of course, but Will really seemed to _hate _it. Or maybe the cocaine just made him edgier then usual.

When Mike finally dragged Will out of the room, still nobody moved. The students' thoughts were swimming, wondering if what Will had said about Mrs. Brooks and Coach had been true. Some believed it was, based on her flaky behavior, but others just wrote it off as Will being stoned yet again. They were both right in their own ways. What Will had said had been true . . . But he was also stoned as hell.

And that was when I made my decision. I needed to fix this - this being my life of course. I needed to quit pussy-footing around and get down to business. I needed some serious fucking help if I wanted to get away from August. And I really, really wanted to get away from him. And not just for me, but for Will too. His little episode just then made up my mind for me; I needed to get Will away from all the bad things in life, namely drugs. And the only way to do that was to rid myself of August. And the only way I could do that, was with some serious help.

Since Brooks was pretty catatonic, I figured I could probably get up and leave right then. So, I did. I got up in and walked right out of the classroom. The students noticed but not Brooks - she was in her own little world. I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me. Across the hall Mike had Will up against the lockers and was lecturing him about cocaine abuse. Will wasn't listening obviously. He was squirming around and as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He glared at me when I passed but I tried not to look. Will on cocaine scared me quite frankly. Because it wasn't really Will at all.

I walked down the hallway towards the sophomore English honors class. The door was open and I stepped inside, knocking on the open door to announce my arrival. The students and teacher all looked up at me questioningly. Only one sophomore, Heather, had the slightest inkling as to why I was here.

"I need to speak to Heather for a moment," I said.  
"We're in the middle of a very important lesson," the teacher said. As if Heather needed to hear any of this. She was easily the smartest person in this room, including the teacher but excluding me.

"Well I have something very important to tell her," I insisted.  
"I'll only be a minute Mrs. Keenan," Heather promised.

"Oh alright. Make it quick," the teacher relented, realizing resistant was futile.  
"Thank you," Heather said as she quickly got up and scurried out of the room. I closed the door behind her.

"What is it?" she asked. In truth, she was pleasantly surprised that I had sought her out instead of the other way around.  
"There's something I need to tell you . . . Something I really shouldn't tell you," I said, "But we need to go somewhere private."

"Um okay. What about the bathroom," she suggested.  
"I guess that will work," I said and we began our silent trek there.

I stepped inside the restroom and didn't bother to check the stalls. I knew they were empty. And I didn't need to keep up pretenses with Heather anymore. I was about to spill my guts to her. I locked the door before turning to face her. She was confused, but excited that I was finally going to enlighten her.

"Okay, so what I'm about to tell you . . . You can't tell anybody. You understand?" I demanded.  
"Yes. I understand. I won't tell anyone . . . I promise," she said, meaning every word.

"And what I'm about to say . . . It's going to sound crazy. But if you think about it, you'll realize that it's true," I went on. She nodded so I continued, "The truth is Heather. I'm not normal."  
"Well in all honesty I already knew that," she said.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Well I'm a little more abnormal then you originally thought," I said, "I'm actually a lot more abnormal. I'm not . . . strictly a human. I'm something a little more. I'm a . . . If you laugh at me I swear to God I'll punch you . . . But I'm a . . . a psychic vampire."

She didn't laugh. "And what exactly is that?"  
"It's a person who . . . feeds off of others psychic energy to fuel our own unnatural mental abilities," I explained, "Such as. . .mind reading." I hoped she got the hint.

"So . . .You're a mind reader," she said calmly, crossing her arms over her chest, "I can't say I'm surprised. You always knew too much."  
"And it's not just me," I said, "Will's one too."

_Now_ she looked surprised. "Okay . . . That I wasn't exactly expecting . . . I mean he's always been a little weird but . . ."  
"I know. He doesn't seem like a mind reader. That's because drugs numb mind reading powers."

"Well okay that makes sense," she agreed, thinking back on the differences between Will high and Will sober. There were a lot.  
"That's really all I can tell you. The rest . . . The rest I kind of have to imply if I want to keep you safe . . ." I trailed off.

"What? Keep me safe? From who?" she demanded.  
"Guess," I told her, "I can't tell you anything."

"August," she realized.  
I nodded.

"And August . . . August is one of you?" she went on.  
"I don't know," I said honestly, "And that's why I need your help."

"Because . . . Because August is abusing you?" she guessed.  
I shrugged. "It's more than that."

She didn't think that was something to shrug about. "Well what's worse than that?" she demanded.  
"You already know. Think. You said it to me once," I coaxed her

She thought about it for a long minute. Then the light bulb went off. "Oh . . . _Oh. _Oh God he made you break up with Will, didn't he?"  
I nodded.

"How?" she asked.  
I gave her a look, silently reminding her that she had to guess.

"You said he wasn't _exactly _like you . . .But he isn't human is he? He has . . .powers right? And he . . . He threatened to hurt you if you didn't break up with Will?" she guessed.  
"Close," I said.

"He . . . he threatened to hurt _Will _if you didn't break up with him," she revised her last statement.  
I nodded.

"Oh God . . ." she moaned.  
"That's why I need your help," I said, "I need to get away from him."

"Of course," she said, "But how?"  
"That's the problem. He knows _everything. _Which is why . . . And this might be hard, but you have to try and not think about him when he's around," I said.

"How can I do that?" she demanded, "If I see him, I'll think about him."  
"Well . . . You have three options. Don't come to school until we figure this out. Think of other things when you see him. Or do drugs," I told her.

"Why would doing drugs solve any of this?"  
"Because if someone's on drugs then it's impossible to read their mind," I informed her, "It's all scrambled."

"Well, next week is spring break. I could . . . I could ditch school the next few days. I mean, it's not like we're doing anything anyway, right?" she said.  
"Thank you Heather," I said, feeling tempted to hug her, "Thank you so much."

"I'll go home early today," she went on, "Mike will drive me. And I can get to work on researching August. You need me to do that right? I was going to last night but I was uh . . . preoccupied." She blushed because she knew I could read her thoughts. Her and Mike had been 'fooling around.' They hadn't had sex, nor had they ever. They both wanted to but Mike was firm in his idea that no girl should lose her virginity before she turned sixteen. Heather's sixteenth birthday at the end of the month was going to be quite exciting for them then, I imagined.

"Yeah I do need you to do that. I can never get away from August long enough to do it," I said.  
"Well I should probably get going then," she said, "Before class ends. That way I can get to work with my research. Hey, did you notice that he had diplomatic plates."

"I noticed the second you did Heather," I said plainly.  
"Oh right," she said, "That's going to take some getting used to. So um, I'll call you later with -"

"No," I cut her off, "Don't call. I'll come over . . . Tomorrow. After school. I'll make up some excuse to August."  
"Okay. See you then," she said heading for the door.

"And one last thing," I said, "Stay away from August at all costs."  
"Like I don't already," she teased as she slipped out the door.

Once she was gone I took a moment to process my feelings. I couldn't decide _how _I felt. On the one hand, it was so relieving to finally _tell _somebody. To let somebody else know that I wasn't the evil, bloodsucking, cocksucking, manipulative, stepford harlot they all thought I was. It felt good to have one other person on the planet who knew the truth. But . . . on the other hand, I was now working under a dead line. I had a little over a week to get rid of August. If I didn't get rid of him before spring break ended, Heather would be in serious danger. But . . . I didn't have any other choice. I had had to stop pussy-footing around if I wanted to rid myself of August - if I wanted to get my life - if I wanted to help Will. Maybe working under a dead line would motivate me. Or get somebody killed.

I was really hopping for that first one.


	40. Loveless Girl

**Loveless Girl**

I had never seen anybody so completely _fucked up _as Will was the next day.

August and I were sitting on our bench, while he stared off into space and I spied on my old friends. It had become our daily routine. Sometimes I wondered what it was that he thought about when he stared off into space like that while he played with my hair. But when I thought about it, I decided that I probably didn't want to know.

I did however want to know where Will was. It was almost time for August and I to go inside and Will still hadn't arrived. He was never this late, unless he wasn't planning on showing up at all. His groupies over by the stairs seemed to share my concerns as they wondered aloud where he could be.

Our questions were answered when a roaring engine could be heard down the street. The noise got louder and louder until a glittering yellow Lexus LFA sped up to the school and stopped on a dime. Everyone was staring and I didn't have a doubt in my mind that Will was sitting behind those illegally tinted windows. No one else in this school had such a flare for dramatic entrances.

Sure enough, when the door opened Will stumbled out. He looked . . . Well the only words in the English language that could thoroughly describe the way he looked were _fucked _and _up. _He was just a mess, straight up. His hair was everywhere. I mean he never really bothered to fix it most days, but today it was more disheveled then I'd ever seen it. It was sticking up and out in every which way. His eyes were so bloodshot he looked like he had pink eye and the rosy shadows underneath them looked like they'd been painted on. His clothes were practically falling off of him. He wore no belt and his dark jeans fell just enough to allow the waistband of his boxers to peak out. For a shirt, he only had a white wife-beater which I was surprised to find him wearing to school, since he usually wore that to bed. He had the biggest fucking smile on his face and this dreamy look in his eyes. Whatever he'd taken, it certainly wasn't cocaine. He was way too fucking happy.

"Good - goodbye. Imma gonna miss you. I love you . . ._so _fucking much," he was saying loudly to the driver, "Did you know that? Cause I do. You're just . . . You're great. Really. . ._truly_ amazing. You make me so happy. You - right there. Yeah you. You're just _fantastic. _I fucking love you."

If he wasn't high as hell, that probably would have hurt me.

A light tinkling laugh came from inside the car as none other than fucking Little Lyn poked her head out. She was leaning over, her hands pressed up against the leather surface of the passenger seat. She definitely wasn't high, but she looked pretty messed up too. The exotic rainbow stars that were painted around her eyes were slightly smudged and the strap of her tank top was falling off her shoulder. Her hair was adorned with leather bows and silver bells and was nearly as disheveled as Will's. She was smiling almost as big too.

"Thanks Will," she giggled, "I had a great time too."  
"No really . . . Great doesn't even describe what a cosmically fan-fucking-tastic time I had . . . It was like out of this world. Like an orgasm on mars!" he went on enthusiastically.

She laughed. "Otherworldly is a good way to describe the experience."  
"Yes. Wonder-fucking-ful," he agreed.

She laughed again. "Well maybe we can do that again sometime," she purred.  
"We should do it like . . . right now," he said.

"You have school and so do I," she reasoned, "I'm already going to be late."  
"So? On mars, we don't need school. All we need is orgasms," he insisted.

I really hoped that was just some expression he'd invented.

Little Lyn giggled and shook her head back and forth, causing the silver bells in her hair to jingle. "You're a nutjob Will, you know that?"  
"Nutjob . . . Have you ever thought about that word? It sounds kinda sexual, right?" he mused.

She laughed again. "No I've never thought about it before but I guess you're right. Now go to class. I'll pick you up after school and we can hang, okay?"  
"O_kay_? No, not okay. Fucking amazing!" he rambled, "That . . . would be fucking amazing.

"Goodbye Will," she said, closing the door and slipping back inside before speeding off. Will turned around and seemed to realize that he was being watched. Although he hardly seemed to care.  
"I fucking love that girl," he told his audience, "She . . . She's just great."

We'd all obviously deducted that he was even _more_ messed up than yesterday. Which, was apparently, possible.

He sauntered over to the left stairs, where his friends resided and stared at him in complete shock - shock that he could be that stoned without OD'ing.  
He smiled up at all of them. "You know, if my life was a musical, this would be the part where I burst out singing 'I Just Had Sex.'" he said, "Actually if my life were a musical I'd probably have a stupider name. Like Ferderico or something else equally as gay. Where's Heather? She likes musicals. Maybe she could help me choreograph . . ."

That entire statement was just generally disturbing to me.

"Wait, you just had sex with that girl?" Mike asked, shocked. He was glad for the distraction though; he was missing Heather already.  
"Twice," Will beamed, but he held up three fingers.

I felt my chest get tighter.

"And it's not even eight o'clock . . ." Aaron mumbled, "Kudos dude, kudos."  
"Aw! Kudos for you too Aaron!" Will enthused.

"Um thank you?" Aaron said, "So who was that girl? She was really hot but she looked like a total freak. Then again, Rick James had it right. The freaky ones are the best."  
"That's Little Lyn," Will announced proudly, sitting down next to Aaron, "And she's like spec-fucking-tacular."

"That car of her's was certainly spectacular," Mike agreed.  
"Yeah I wonder how much one of _those _costs," Aaron wondered.

"Probably a lot," Kristy joined in, "I mean, Will always goes after the rich girls." Towards the end her voice picked up a hateful sneer.  
"Ever think that maybe the rich ones go after him?" Mike defended Will, because Will didn't seem much interested in defending himself. He was petting Aaron's hair while Aaron just gave him a 'wtf' look.

"Well let's ask him. Will do you - what the fuck are you doing?" Kristy demanded.  
"His hair is so soft," Will crooned as he nuzzled Aaron's hair with his cheek, "It's like kittens have snowed on it . . ."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?" Juliet jumped in. You know something doesn't make sense if even _Juliet _realizes it.  
"Will . . ." Mike said cautiously, "Did you _take _anything today?"

"All I had today was some coffee," he said while he continued to stroke a weirded out Aaron's hair, "But Little Lyn put some X in it."  
Ecstasy . . . Well that certainly explains a lot now doesn't it?

"And did you have it before or after sex?" Mike asked.  
"Before," Will said dreamily, "Before that amazing . . . _mazing_ sex."

"And did you _know _she put it in your drink?" Mike went on with his patronizing questioning.  
"Yeaaaahhhh," Will drew out the word.

"Did she _tell _you she was putting it in your drink?" Mike asked, hoping to get more insight into this situation.  
"No . . . I just _knew. _Little Lyn's always putting stuff in my drinks," he said matter-of-factly.

Because _that's_ not date rape.

"So . . . She _drugged _you," Kristy deducted.  
"And it's not even eight o'clock," Aaron mumbled.

"Billy, you are the only guy I know who hot chicks have to drug in order to get you to have sex with them," Mike said, shaking his head and smiling slightly.  
"At least this proves that not only guys drug people," Aaron said, not even caring as Will put his head on his shoulder, "I for one, am glad the stereotype has been exposed as false."

Kristy rolled her eyes at him. "So Will," she said, "She gave you X right? How do you know?"  
"Because I've never been so happy before!" he said, smiling.

"Interesting," Kristy mused, "I hear that that stuff makes people really . . . _playful_."  
"And by playful you mean kinky, right?" Aaron asked.

"_Super_ kinky," Juliet agreed.  
"Why do you think that girl gave it to him?" Mike said, "To put him in the mood."

They were talking about him like he wasn't there. Because, mentally, he wasn't.

"Let's test that theory," she said deviously before switching her tone to a very sweet one, "Hey Billy come here a sec."  
Will left Aaron's side and crawled (actually _crawled) _across the step to where Kristy sat on the other side. He poked her cheek and giggled. "Yeeessssss Kristy-rella?" he inquired.

She laughed. "I just wanted to say hi to you," she lied, smiling  
"Aw! That was so sweet of you!" he said, sitting down next to her, "I don't know why _anybody _would call you a bitch. You're such a sweetheart!"

"Wow, how much fucking ecstasy did she give him?" Aaron quipped.  
Kristy gave him a death stare that faded when Will put his head on her shoulder and started stroking her face. "And you're so pretty! And you're skin is so . . . _soft_. It's like it's made of butterdrops."

"Okay now he's just making up words," Mike commented.  
"You're surprised?" Aaron added.

Kristy ignored the both of them. "Thank you Will," she said, loving all the attention she was getting from him.  
He didn't say anything, just continued to marvel at her skin. He then brushed her hair away from her neck and began to stroke the skin there. "It's even softer here! It's like baby skin . . ."

Kristy giggled again. "Thank you." She was just eating this all up.  
She giggled some more when Will leaned in closer and kissed her neck. Her thoughts turned to mush. _"I have died and gone to heaven."_

Not yet she hadn't. But soon she would. I was going to kill that harlot, but it certainly wasn't going to feel like heaven.

"You taste like beauty . . ." Will murmured as he kissed her neck.  
Kristy looked like she was in love. "And what does that taste like?" she asked, her voice all breathy.

"Like you," he said simply and she melted.  
"Hey do you wanna come over to my house or something?" she asked.

I wanted to rip that manipulative succubus' head off her shoulder. First her, than that parasite Little Lyn.

"But we have school!" Will sounded scandalized.  
"So we'll ditch," she said easily.

"Oh . . . Good idea! You always were smart," he complimented. Apparently Ecstasy makes you a huge suck up. I wondered if my cousin Nefertiti took a lot of Ecstasy.  
Kristy giggled at the praise, even though she knew he didn't mean a word of it. Well he did. For now. "Well come on let's go," she said.

"Are we gonna fly there?" he asked. The words themselves could be taken as a sarcastic snipe, but his voice was full of wonder and excitement.  
"No," she laughed as she got up, "We're going to drive there."

"Since when do you have a car?" quipped Aaron from the sidelines.  
"It's my _birthday_ on Friday," Kristy hissed at him, "So my dad bought me a used car."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he wondered, confused.  
"I figured _Lorraine _would tell you," she snarled, momentarily distracted from her Will induced high.

"Fuck off Kristy," Aaron growled back. He knew that Kristy had been upset about him dating Lori but seriously, she had to learn when to let go.  
Kristy flicked her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him before turning back to Will. "C'mon Billy, let's go. We can stop by McDonald's and get some breakfast."

My heart constricted. Will used to always get _me_ McDonald's.

"Ooohhh! Imma gonna get a milkshakes! I love milkshakes!" he enthused, "Imma gonna get a white flavored one!"  
"It's called vanilla Will," Juliet told him . . . Juliet using a patronizing tone . . . Oh God. Must be a sign of the apocalypse.

Will gave her a look like _she_ was the one high as a mother fucking kite.  
"C'mon Will, let's just go already," Kristy said, making a point not to invite anybody else along. They'd only screw things up.

"Okey dokey Kristy-rella," he sung as he jumped from the steps and followed behind her. He linked arms with her like he liked to do when he was high and half skipped, half danced his way down to the parking lot, dragging a laughing Kristy with him.

"Ten bucks says they're gonna do it when they get back to her house," Mike said once they were gone.  
"Twenty says they do it _before _they get back to her house," Juliet disagreed.

"And it's not even eight o'clock," Aaron mumbled, "That man is a _God_."  
"Straight up," Mike agreed.

"You know if they do it I think it'll be the first time he'll have sex with anybody from our school," Juliet mused, "Like I mean he fools around with Westbridge girls and those freaky friends of his but . . . "  
"You know, I think she's right," Mike said. "He never hooks up with anybody in our school. Well maybe Amunet . . . But you know he won't talk about her."

"Yeah she really messed him up didn't she?" Juliet thought aloud, "I mean, he's really been out of control lately."  
"It's his way of dealing," Mike defended him, as always.

"Even so, I've decided that William Sharp is my new personal hero," Aaron said, "He got stoned out of his mind and laid by two different chicks . . . all before first eight."  
"I don't think I'd like having sex in the morning," Mike mused, "I mean, I'm just too tired.

"When you're on Ecstasy, you like everything," Aaron argued.  
"He's right," Juliet agreed, "I had Ecstasy once . . . I think this guy put it in my drink . . . Or maybe it was LSD. Well, either way I remember being so tripped out."

"Is that even a phrase?" Mike wondered, "Tripped out?"  
"It should be," Aaron said, "I like it . . . Tripped out."

"Well Will is certainly tripped out," Mike said, "I've never seen him this out of it."  
"I wonder how much Ecstasy that girl gave him," Juliet wondered.

"Probably a lot," Mike said, "He is so fucking stoned."  
"I wonder when that girl will realize that she doesn't have to slip him drugs," Aaron said, "She could just offer them to him."

"I wish somebody would offer _me _some drugs," Juliet sighed haplessly, "I haven't had a hit in days."  
"I got some weed in my bag," Aaron said, getting up, "You want some?"

"Hell yeah!" she enthused, jumping to her feet.  
"We could go smoke it out back," Aaron went on.

"Good idea. Cause sometimes the vice principle looks out here for ditchers during first period," she agreed.  
"You comin' Mike?" Aaron asked.

Mike thought about it for a minute. He'd never been much into drugs. When he was younger he'd smoked a lot of pot but since meeting Heather he'd been cutting back. She didn't like it when he smoked. But what Heather didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "Yeah why not."

The trio vanished and that's when I realized that they'd never gone inside before August and I. I looked around and realized that everybody else had left as well. We were all alone in the courtyard. Just August and I. He was staring off into space with that glassy look in his emerald eyes.

"August," I said, shaking his shoulder gently.  
He snapped out of his fog and the haziness left his eyes. "Oh what?" he asked and I was shocked that I had caught him so off guard. If only I'd thought to stab him when he was unaware . . . But then again, I had no way of knowing if that would actually kill him. And if it didn't . . .God would I be fucked.

"We're going to be late," I said.  
He looked around for a minute. "We're already late. Perhaps we should just . . . ditch?" he inquired. He said the word 'ditch' as if it was foreign to him.

"And do what?" I asked.  
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and looked me up and down. "Well you do look quite exquisite in that outfit," he said.

"I'm dressed as a sailor," I stated. It was true. The slutty dress of the day was a tiny little blue sailor's dress. It looked something a four year old would wear . . . Or a stripper.  
"A ravishing sailor," he agreed, "All you need is the hat."

"This outfit's degrading enough without the hat," I said, "Thank you very much."  
"I don't know. I think it could be a little more degrading," he purred as he suddenly grabbed me by my waist and hoisted me onto his lap so that I was facing him. He was aggravatingly strong.

"No," I said simply, crossing my arms over my chest.  
"You're cute when you pout," he informed me, kissing me on the nose. I hated when he gave me those little pecks - as if we were actually in love.

"The answer is still no," I said, "I'm not doing this. Not until I get my car." It was my best excuse for not wanting him to touch me.  
He laughed. "Withholding physical intimacy to get me to buy you things," he mused, "You really are a woman."

Last time I checked . . .

"You promised me a car," I complained.  
"I know princess," he said, "And I'm working on it. You'll have it by Friday."

That was bad news . . . I would no longer have an excuse for holding out on him.

"And then you'll have me," I blurted out without even thinking. I seriously considered throwing my hand over my mouth in my shock. Why in God's name had I said that? I cursed my smart mouth.  
He grinned. "Sounds good to me. Although I'll have to work to make it sensual to counter act the faint traces of prostitution that this whole situation carries."

Prostitution? Really? I got more of a slavery vibe.

"You promised me something," I defended myself, "I'm just holding you too it."  
"Ahhh, I see how it is," he teased, giving me an eskimo kiss that I despised, "You're a little deal maker."

"I like deals," I said passively, my words slathered with meaning.  
"Well little miss deal maker, what do I have to do to get a kiss?" he asked.

This was my chance. "How about . . . I give you a kiss, and you let me sleep over Heather's tonight?" I suggested.  
I absolutely hated asking 'permission' to sleep over my friend's house. From my fucking boyfriend. He shouldn't have been able to tell me what to do. With Will, I would've told him I was going out and he would have told me to have fun. But that was the difference between August and Will. Will could never control me, nor did he want to. He wanted me to be free and happy. August wanted me to be his slave. And I was.

"I suppose that would be alright," he decided after brief contemplation, "I'm going out of town anyway tonight."  
I didn't even ask why. It was just too perfect. If August was busy, than Heather and I could talk about him without fear that he was monitoring us.

"Great!" I enthused. I was so excited about getting rid of him for an evening that _I _almost kissed _him. _But I promised myself that I would never do that. So I held back.  
"Great," he purred, leaning in to kiss me.

I didn't even fight him this time. I kissed him back, mustering up some thoughts of Will to get myself interested in kissing August. His mouth and lips were cold. It was like frenching an ice sculpture. It made it hard for me to pretend this was Will. Will was always so warm - hot inside and out. I reminisced about the day I'd found Will in the gym - sweaty and shirtless and doing pull-ups. Now, _that _had been hot. Just thinking about it made a flush go over my skin. I kissed August feverishly, hoping that if I wished hard enough he'd turn into Will.

August ran his cool tongue over my lower lip and I actually didn't mind. I was so overcharged and heated up that I was desperate for physical contact - even from August. Mere thoughts of Will working out were enough to drive me into a frenzy. That boy was just too hot . . . No wonder he got laid thrice a day. What the hell had he been doing with me when he had a whole harem ready to fuck him? He must have really loved me . . .

I pushed those thoughts away. If I thought about that stuff, I'd get upset and then August would get mad. Instead, I thought about making out with Will on his dad's couch. I thought of his hot mouth peppering my neck with sweet kisses and his delightfully warm tongue gliding across my cleavage. I felt warmth and desire tug at my abdomen and I felt the strangest urge to grind against August's lap. But then I reminded myself that it was _August_, not Will. And that kept me from making a stupid decision.

"I love you," August said, breaking contact with my lips.

When a guy tells you he loves you, there are a number of ways to respond. One, if you love him, you say it back. _I love you. _Unless you're me. Than you scream _I could never love you! _at the top of your lungs and shatter his heart into a million tiny pieces. I mean, that's what I'd said to Will, the man I loved, when he told me loved me. It hadn't been true when I'd said it to him, but if I said it to August, it would be true. Unfortunately, if I said that to August, he'd strike me dead. So, neither of those responses would work. There were a few other responses I'd heard over the years, thanks to my mind reading powers. The growingly popular _I know_ and the cocky _Get in line. _Neither of those would work for me though.

"There's no line."

It was true. There was nobody in line to love me. Not anymore.


	41. Interested Girl

**Interested Girl**

"So have you gotten anything for me?" I asked.

I was standing in the vestibule of Heather's house with her with her that night, having just arrived seconds ago. There was noise coming from all corners of the house which was oddly comforting. I was used to living in a big empty crypt while my mother did her intern that I was a stranger to what it was like to be in a busy household. I could hear Heather's mother in the kitchen, puttering around as she made her tea and clucked on the phone to her sister. I could hear Heather's dad in his office, mentally stressing over the report he had to finish. I could hear Heather's little brother and sister watching cartoons while they fought over the remote.

Like I said, it was oddly comforting.

"Well maybe we should go up to my room for this?" she said. She was thinking vaguely of what she learned but it was all a bunch of flashes because she was still unsure of how to explain her information.  
"You're probably right," I agreed as she began to lead me up the stairs to her room.

Heather's room was like the rest of her house; quaint and personal. I felt as if a real person actually lived here. There were clothes on the floor, family pictures on the walls, books on the nightstand, homework on the desk, stuffed animals on the bed. All the kinds of things you expected to find in a fifteen year old girl's bedroom.

"Nice bunnies," I said, sitting down on her bed and picking up a stuffed bunny off her bed.  
"Oh shut up," she said, tossing a limp notebook at me.

"Sorry," I apologized, putting the notebook down next to me, "Now what have you got?"  
"Well," she said, going over to her desk and grabbing a sheet of paper before coming to sit down next to me and handing them to me, "I did some research and so far this is what I found. Read it."

So I did. It was a print out page from Wikipedia page about a man named Harrison Bronze.

_"Harrison Bronze, is an Australian judge from Dampier and the United States Ambassador to Australia . . .Bronze's wife is Judge Katherine Bronze and they have one teenage son, August,"_

"He's Australian!" I exclaimed, shocked. His accent was distinctly British. This didn't make any sense.  
"Look at the picture," she told me.

I looked down at the picture at the bottom of the page. It showed the happy Bronze family at some sort of press conference; Harrison Bronze, Katherine Bronze, and August Bronze. Harrison was not a particularly imposing man. He was middle-aged and had thinning blonde hair, a politician's smile, and a designer suit on his body. His wife, Katherine, looked about the same age with short, sleek, platinum blonde hair, and a pant suit. Lastly, was August, looking about a year or so under. He still had his mop of blonde curls . . . But he was lacking his pair of emerald irises. In their place were a pair of baby blues.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, "His eyes are a different color."  
"I know!" she agreed.

"What does that mean?" I demanded.  
"I don't know!" she said in the exact same tone.

"This is so-" I stopped short and took a deep breath. I had to calm down a bit and give this some serious thought. Review the facts. Fact number one, August had a British accent but _wasn't_ from Britain. Fact number two, he _didn't_ have an Australian accent but was from Australia. And fact number three, he had green eyes but _didn't_ have green eyes in that picture.

And what did that mean? Well, first a few other outside facts about August had to be taken into consideration. There was that time when Marshall had called him Auggie and his accent had changed and his eyes had turned blue. And then there was Marshall, who tended to exert control over August. Then of course there was August's apparent lack of a past.

All that, coupled with what I learned that day led me to one conclusion.

"He's not the real August," I realized aloud.  
"What?" Heather demanded.

"He's not the real August," I repeated.  
"I'm not following," she said.

"August is being possessed!" I exclaimed, "The August we know, isn't the real August. He's being possessed! He's been possessed since the day we met him!"  
"Possessed?" she repeated, "By what?"

"I don't know? A spirit or something maybe?" I guessed, feeling sick.  
"Ew, you're dating a dead guy," she muttered, shuddering.

"Somehow I doubt that," I said, going on hunch, "I feel like an evil spirit would be more limited than August. August . . . He can do pretty much . . . anything. And if ghosts could do the things August could do . . . Everybody who ever killed someone or pissed off a dead person . . . Well they would _suffer_."

"Okay so if he's not a ghost what could he be?" she asked, "What else possesses people?"  
"I don't know . . . But he has these . . . shadow things that he controls. They're like these blobs of black fog that seem to follow him around. And sometimes I'll see a shadow and it'll turn into August."

"Okay . . . That's fucking creepy," she said in a thoughtful voice.  
"You're telling me?" I returned sarcastically.

"So what do we do?" she asked.  
"Do some research on shadow creatures I guess," I said with a shrug, "See if we get any hits."

"We can use my lap top," she said, going over to her desk and sitting down. I followed suit and knelt down next to her as she opened a search engine.  
"Try 'shadow people,'" I told her.

She did so and came up with about ten thousand results.  
"This is never going to work," I complained.

"Don't you think you're giving up just a little bit too early?" she asked.  
I sighed. "I'm not giving up. I just . . . I just don't want to do this right now. I feel so . . . stressed."

"That's because you've been dealing with an abusive fuck like August for two weeks," she said, "Of course you're stressed."  
"I just . . . don't want to think about him for a little while," I told her, "I mean I can't remember the last time I went an hour without thinking about him." About how much I hated him.

"Well you know what you need?" she said, getting up, "A girls night."  
"I've never had a girls night before," I told her, also getting to my feet.

"Well thankfully you have me," she said.  
"So. . . what do we do?" I asked.

"Usually we stay up late, raid the liquor cabinet while my parents are sleeping, watch chick flicks, tell secrets, gossip about guys, etcetera," she said.  
"I guess I could do that," I said, "As long as August isn't one of the guys we talk about."

"We won't have any issues there," she promised, "So go ahead, put your pajamas on, get comfortable. I'm gonna go get some movies."  
"Um okay. Sure," I said as she left. When she was gone I closed the door and locked it telepathically before slipping out of my clothes and into a pair of pink polka-dot satin shorts and a white tank-top. I then put my clothes back into my bag, just as Heather reappeared with a stack of DVD's.

"Take your pick," she told me, throwing them onto the bed. I looked through them all and decided on the that appeared to have absolutely no deep meaning. It appeared to be a mindless comedy. Perfect.  
"Let's watch this one," I said, tossing it to her.

She looked it over and nodded. She figured I wouldn't want to watch a romance. She took out the DVD and put it into the DVD player on top of the small TV that rested on her dresser. While the commercials started she picked up the phone next to the DVD and dialed a number. Mike's number.

"Before we get started I just gotta call Mike and say goodnight," she told me in an apologetic way.  
"Go ahead," I said with a flippant hand gesture.

The phone rang and Mike picked up on the second ring. I could hear everything he said through Heather's thoughts. _"Hey sweetheart."__  
_"Hi baby," she returned sweetly, rocking back and forth on her heals, "I just called to say goodnight."

_"Going to bed already? Still feeling sick?" _he asked, his voice filled with concern.  
"No no I'm fine," she assured him, "I told you, it's just a headache."

_"Then why are you going to bed so early?"_ he inquired.  
"Well I'm not . . . Amu - Amunet's sleeping over and I didn't want to forget to say goodnight," she said, choking on my name, knowing he wouldn't react well to hearing it.

"_Amunet?" _he repeated, his voice increasing in volume, "_The Amunet that broke Will's heart? _That _Amunet?" __  
_"She's my friend Mike," she said sternly.

_"And Will's my friend," _he argued, _"And that - that _bitch _broke his fucking heart." __  
_"She didn't mean to hurt Will," Heather defended me.

_"Oh, is that why she used him and then cheated on him?" _he snapped sarcastically.  
"Mikey," she said, "You have to _believe me _when I say that you don't know the whole story. You do believe me, don't you Mikey?"

He sighed. _"Yes I believe you Heather but . . ."__  
_"Just let me handle this on my own, okay?" she asked, "I'm a big girl and I can pick my own friends. I can take care of myself. I wouldn't be friends with Amunet if I didn't believe that she was really a good person. Just, trust me, okay?"

He exhaled deeply. _"Alright babe." __  
_"Thank you," she said.

_"Are you going to be in school tomorrow?" _he asked.  
"No. My parents said I could stay home again," she said, regretful. She didn't want Mike to think she was avoiding him or something.

_"Mind if I come by tomorrow then?" _he asked.  
Heather grinned. "Not at all," she said, "Come by after school?"

_"Sure thing sweetheart," _he promised.  
"Bring me a sandwich from the deli?" she prompted.

_"Anything for you babe," _he said.  
"Thanks baby, you're the best," she told him, "So I'll see you then?"

_"See you then. Goodnight."_  
"Goodnight. I love you," she said.

_"Love you too,"_ he said before hanging up. At least they didn't play the _'no you hang up first'_ game. I might have killed myself. The _'I love you's'_ was torment enough.  
"Sorry about that," she apologized, putting down the phone and coming to lay down in her large bed next to me. For me, it felt weird sharing a bed with another girl. Not that I ever really shared a bed with anybody. But Heather seemed perfectly fine with it. I guess girls who actually have other girl friends aren't bothered by trivial things like sleeping in the same bed together. So I forced myself to relax.

"It's fine," I told her, just as the movie started. "You guys are a couple. I get it."  
"No I meant I was sorry about what Mike said," she elaborated, "I'm sure you heard it."

"I've heard worse about myself," I promised her.  
She nodded. "I'm sure hearing all those rumors the past few weeks sucked."

"It did. I think the worse one was the one where Will supposedly went down on me all the time," I confided in her, "Because it made him look bad instead of me for once."  
She was quiet for a moment. "That's sweet," she said finally, "That you care more about his reputation then you're own."

"That's probably because I care about him more then I care about myself," I admitted with a casual shrug.  
"Same with me and Mike," she agreed.

"Well at least with you guys it's reciprocal," I muttered sourly, "Will doesn't care about me at all. At least not anymore."  
"I'm sure he does," she reassured me, "He's just upset."

"Really, _really_ upset," I mumbled.  
"Well because you really hurt him," she explained.

"That makes me feel much better," I said sarcastically.  
"It should. I mean you wouldn't be able to hurt him that much unless he really loved you," she elaborated, "Everybody knows that only somebody you love can destroy you like that."

I felt myself tearing up so I wiped my dry eyes. "Thanks for that lovely sediment but thinking about how badly I hurt Will doesn't really make me feel any better."  
"My point _is,_" she continued, "That Will really loved you and he still does."

"I doubt that," I mumbled listlessly, "I bet you don't know what he did today."  
She didn't. She raised an eyebrow at me. "What he do?"

"Well he showed up at school in this fancy sports car with this slutty girl named Little Lyn," I began.  
"Little Lyn?" she repeated with skepticism.

"Nickname," I explained, "Anyway, he was stoned out of his mind. She put Ecstasy into his drink apparently."  
"Seriously?" she demanded, "She slipped him drugs?"

"Yeah and they had sex," I said, the words tasting like ash on my tongue as I spoke them, "Two, possibly three times."  
"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, "Isn't that date rape?"

"I hardly doubt Will cared," I said with a roll of my watery eyes, "He even knew she put something in his drink. Apparently does that a lot."  
"That's normal," she mumbled sarcastically.

"Yeah and that's not even the worse part," I went on, "He ended up ditching school with Kristy and they apparently went to his house. Mike and Juliet had a bet going about whether or not they'd do it."  
"Oh you got to be kidding me . . ." she trailed off, getting out of bed, "Hold on a second, I have to make another phone call."

She went back over to her dresser and picked up her phone, in the process walking in front of the TV, which made me realize that neither of us had been watching the movie. Oh well. Heather paced away from the TV as she dialed the phone and let it ring twice before it was answered.

_"Hello?" _  
"Juliet," Heather said, "It's Heather."

_"Oh hey Heather," _Juliet enthused, _"What's going on? I heard you were sick? How are you feeling?"__  
_"I'm okay," she promised, "Just a headache."

_"Oh that's good. So what's up?" __  
_"Well I heard that some interesting stuff happened today . . ." she hinted, "I was wondering if you could fill me in on that."

_"Interesting stuff . . . What interest - _Oooh_. You heard about Will," _Juliet caught on.  
"Yeah. Something about him and Ecstasy . . ." Heather trailed off, her voice a question.

_"Oh yeah!" _Juliet exclaimed, getting excited by the gossip, _"Okay so, Will showed up today in this bitchin' sports car with this freaky chick. Like she was seriously freaky. She had like different colored hair with bells and bows in it and she had this crazy face painting on her face. She was like a circus performer or something. Anyway Will got out of the car and he was like totally blazed. Like legit. You see cause that freaky chick put fucking X in his coffee! And he knew it, and he drank it anyway? God is he stupid or _what? _Anyyyyway, after that chick left Will came over to us and he didn't make like any sense. He was fucking lit. He was like petting Aaron's hair and comparing it to kittens or snowmen or something. He was more blasted then I'd ever seen him. And Kristy saw that too and saw that as a good time to make her move. So she started talkin' to him and he kept complimentin' her . . . And then she asked him if they wanted to ditch and they did. Cause Kristy got a car now. It's nice, not as big as Mike's van though. The back seat is kinda cramped I feel like making out back there would be a-"_

"Do you know what happened with Kristy and Will after that?" Heather cut her off.  
_"Oh yeah!" _she exclaimed, "_I was _just _on the phone with her! Turns out they went back to her place and fooled around apparently They didn't do _it_ though. They did a little bit of math though . . .If you know what I mean." _

"Of course I don't know what you mean," Heather said, sounding exasperated, "What the hell does 'math' mean?"  
_"You know . . . Some _number games_,"_ she hinted.

"Okay usually I'm good at this sorta thing but I have absolutely no idea what that is slang for," Heather said, point blank.  
_"Sixty nine silly!"_

I threw up in my mouth.

"What!" Heather nearly shouted, "Are you _serious_!"  
_"Well it wasn't legit sixty nine,"_ Juliet amended, "_They gave each other oral but I don't know if it was at the same time . . ."_

"Oh my God . . ." Heather trailed off.  
_"I know right!" _Juliet exclaimed, as if this was somehow exciting, _"And Kristy said he was really good too! Like the best oral she's ever had. That makes me soooo jealous of Nettie." _

I put my hand over my mouth as I gagged, afraid that I would throw up on Heather's bed.

"Uhhh, ummm . . .Was that all?" Heather asked, sounding like she was on the verge of gagging as well.  
_"Yeah I think so . . . She gave him a blowjob and then he gave her cunnilingus. But she was really going on about how great he was. Apparently it was like he was making out with her-" _

"Juliet!" Heather practically screamed, "Stop! _Please!"__  
__"Oh I get it, you don't want all the details,"_ she said, _"I can respect that. I don't understand it but I respect it. Anyway, is that all you wanted to know?"_

_"Umm yeah . . . Just one thing, are you __sure __that's what happened?" Heather asked.  
"Yes . . . Well no. Kristy said they did but nobody's heard from Will so Kristy could be lying . . ." Juliet admitted. _

"Okay thanks Juliet, I'll . . . talk to you later. I have a friend over," Heather said.  
_"Ooohh is it Mike?"_ asked Juliet and I could practically hear her waggling her eyebrows.

"No," Heather said, "It's Amunet."  
_"Ew, that whore?"_ was Juliet's immediate response.

"_Goodbye_ Juliet," Heather said pointedly before hanging up. She looked over at me silently before coming to lay beside me. She put a comforting arm around my shoulder as I covered my mouth with my hand. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," she apologized, "I shouldn't have called."

"I'm going to throw up," I told her. My words were muffled by my hand but still understandable.  
"You and me both," she assured me.

"Why would Will _do _that?" I demanded, "That's just . . . _nasty_."  
"Nasty that he gave a girl oral or nasty that he gave _Kristy _oral?" she checked.

"Mostly that it was Kristy," I admitted. "I mean, why would he go down on _Kristy? _Why would he do anything with _her_?"  
"Well . . . We can probably contribute it mostly to the fact that he was totally stoned . . . As we do most of his stupid actions," she mused, "But also . . . I think because everybody already thinks he gave you oral. So he probably figures he might as well do the things he's been accused of."

"But _still_!" I exclaimed, "Kristy!" I wasn't sure what bothered me more. The thought of Will pleasuring Kristy with the same mouth he'd kissed me with so many times . . . The same tongue that had explored my mouth. The same lips that had said the words _"I love you" _to me. _Or _the thought of Kristy's nasty mouth on _my _Will.

Him having sex with Little Lyn was one thing. She was a stranger. She didn't know me. But Kristy . . . I couldn't help but feel like she was rubbing it in my face that Will was her's. Even when she wasn't here . . . I felt like she wanted to spite me.

"He's been through a lot lately," Heather lectured, "You can't blame him for . . . "  
"Acting like a whore?" I finished for her.

"I was going to say for making bad decisions," she said disapprovingly.  
"Same thing," I said flippantly.

She sighed and patted my hand comfortingly, looking up at the TV for the first time. I understood why. There was a hot guy on the screen; a shirtless hot guy who was wearing a cowboy hat while riding through the streets of some city, stopping to talk to some Asian guys. What they were saying didn't make any sense, but the shirtless guy had a sexy southern drawl, I had to admit.

"That guy has an accent kinda like Will's," Heather noted.  
"Will does _not _have an accent," I disagreed. Sure, he talked a little slower (when he was sober) than most of the people up north but he didn't have a noticeable accent by any standards.

"Yes he does!" she insisted, "You've just never heard it!"  
"And you have?" I demanded.

"Yes!" she said, "When he first moved here in like sixth grade he had a southern accent."  
Well that kinda made sense, considering both Bindy and Max both had southern accents - Bindy's was more prominent though. "Then how come he doesn't have an accent anymore?"

"Because kids used to make fun of him so he forced himself not to talk like that anymore," she explained.  
"Oh," I said weakly, not liking the image in my head of a younger, more vulnerable version of Will being harassed by cruel school children that Heather had provided me with. It made me sicker than any sexual act he'd _supposedly_ done. I hated the idea of anybody harassing my love, my baby, _my_ Will. Especially when he was young and lacking the confidence and popularity he had now.

"Yeah. It's ironic though," she mused, "I mean, he could use that accent now and it would probably only make people like him even more . . ."  
I was quiet for a moment. "Where exactly in the south is he from?" I asked after a minute.

"Louisiana," she told me, "New Orleans actually. They moved after Hurricane Katrina destroyed their house."  
I threw a hand over my mouth in shock and mortification. God . . . That was just horrible. Poor, poor Will. He'd been through so much. First he loves his home, then has to lose his old life and move to a whole other side of the country, and then his parents divorce and his father starts abusing him which forces him into drugs. And then the girl he loves breaks his heart on his birthday.

It really made me hate myself for adding to his emotional scars.


	42. Scarred Girl

**Scarred Girl**

It's bad to spy on people. I knew that. It wasn't like I was stupid or something. I knew that spying was bad. But I did so much of it that I hardly noticed that I was doing it anymore. Kind of like lying. I lied so much it had practically become second nature to me. Spying was like that in a way. Thanks to my gift I was always spying on people, whether I realized it or not. But lately, I'd been doing a lot of intentional spying. On Will. Every morning before school I watched him arrive, watched him interact with his friends, watched to make sure he was okay. Usually I kept my distance, observing from afar. But that next day, I would take my spying to a whole new level. Until it was borderline stalking.

Thursday was another beautiful April day in Hollow Creek. All the flowers and trees around the school were blooming, the birds chirping obnoxiously. Puddles of water were collected on the pavement from last night's thunder showers, but the sky was pretty clear. It was a pearly gray color as the sun shone lazily through the early morning fog. Due to the early hour there was a chill in the air which left me to freeze in my latest dress. It was a light colored, minty-hued, tiny little strapless dress with a two tiered skirt and a large lace bow to tie up the back. It was cute, but horribly short, especially given the temperature.

August and I were sitting on our usual bench, as if things were really progressing as usual. But I couldn't help but look at him out of the corner of my eye like I expected him to grow fangs or develop red irises, or perhaps a second head. It was safe to say that I was genuinely freaked out by him now. Of course I'd always been wary and generally scared of him, but now I felt like a demon had his arm around my shoulder. I just had to remind myself that despite the fact that he'd always been heartless, 'August' had always a heart for me. For some reason that I couldn't begin to fathom, he wanted me; which meant that, no matter how much he hurt me, he would never actually kill me.

The problem was, how would I kill him? I highly doubted that he was a ghost, but he still seemed to be some kind of otherworldly being that could possess people; which meant that it was probably safe to say that if I stabbed him, he would just leave August's body and find a new host. Then not only would I have an innocent, dead son of a diplomat on my hands, but I'd also have to face the wrath of the shadow being that had inhabited the real August when he realized I tried to kill him.

So what options did that leave me with? Well both Heather and I had agreed on that part. Exorcism. Now maybe not a traditional exorcism with holy water and crosses, but some short of supernatural cleansing was necessary. Heather and I had agreed to pay a visit to the gypsy shop in town across the street from Hanley's as soon as possible, followed by a visit to any nearby churches. August may not have been undead and was _probably_ not the devil, but whatever he was, it was unnatural and it had to be destroyed.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't even noticed Will arriving. Ever since our breakup he'd arrived in style just about every day. Either on a motorcycle or in a sports car, and always accompanied by some attractive female. But today that was not the case. He wandered up from parking lot and for the first time since I'd broken up with him, he actually looked like he had just been broken up with. He was still wearing his newly acquired motorcycle boots accompanied by jeans and a black t-shirt, but he had a black beanie on his head. The black tips of his brown hair stuck out under the hat, some falling into his bloodshot eyes. He didn't appear high though. Instead of being outlined by pink shadows, his eyes were outlined by tired looking grey circles. He looked paler than usual and he lacked his usual confident gait. In his hands he held a coffee and for once, he was alone.

He shuffled over to the steps, ignoring the thoughts and whispers pointed in his direction. When he reached his friends they all noted the change in him. Of course, there were only three there to note said change. Heather was still absent of course but Kristy was also missing for some reason. Which I found strange; I'd been sure she'd show up to gloat about her encounters with Will. But apparently not. Only Mike, Aaron, and Juliet were there.

"Hey buddy," Aaron said, getting up to shake Will's hand in that weird teenage guy way, "Lovin' the ecstasy hangover?"  
"Hardly," Will returned, shaking his hand and then taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah they really are the worst aren't they?" Aaron asked rhetorically, "Every time I take ecstasy, the next day I want to die."  
"That makes two of us," Will muttered sourly.

"I remember I was talking to somebody about that. I can't even remember who. But they were saying that the reason you always feel shitty the day after you take ecstasy is because when you take it, it releases all these endorphins which is why you're so happy . . . But then the next day your brain has to like recuperate so it has to send less which makes you all depressed," Aaron explained.

"Wow thanks for the lesson Doctor Maslin," Mike muttered.  
"Yeah, really fascinating," Will mumbled in listless agreement.

"So," Aaron said, waggling his eyebrows, "You and Kristy." He'd heard the story as well, from Juliet of course. He acted like he found it amusing but really, he wanted to rip Will's head off.  
"Seriously dude, don't even go there," he said, still not sitting down.

In response Aaron also remained standing and said, "You're really _that _ashamed of what happened? I mean, if I was you I'd be bragging." Not, Aaron knew, that Will ever did much of that.  
"You can't brag about something that _didn't _happen," Will said pointedly.

"Are you saying that Kristy lied?" Juliet asked, getting to her feet.  
"Yep," Will said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Are you sure it didn't happen?" Mike jumped in, getting up.  
"Yes, I'm sure," Will said, seeming confident in that statement. Which made the urge to vomit I'd been feeling since last night subside a little.

"But dude, you were fucking lit yesterday. How can you be sure nothing happened?" Aaron asked.  
Will lifted his hand in front of his mouth and circled it a few times with his finger. "It's _my_ mouth," he said, "I think I'd recognize the taste later on."

I shuddered.

"Well how can you be sure what it would taste like if you've never done it before?" Mike asked.  
Will broke eye contact with him and looked down just a little. This question seemed to make him uncomfortable so he took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh my God!" Aaron exclaimed, "So it's true, you _did _give Amunet oral!"  
"Will you shut up?" Will snapped, his voice a low hiss.

"You did, didn't you?" Aaron asked, lowering his voice.  
"I did not," Will hissed, "The point is I know what it would taste like - and I know that it would linger. So let's just drop it, okay?"

"It was that freaky chick Lyn wasn't it?" Aaron pried.  
"I said let it go," Will growled.

"Okay, okay . . . But . . . Why would Kristy lie if she knew she was gonna get caught?" Aaron wondered.  
"She probably thought I wouldn't remember a thing and just go with whatever she told me happened," he said with a shrug.

"I can't believe she lied to me!" Juliet exclaimed suddenly and angrily, "I mean, I _can _because we both do all the time . . . But I can't believe she told me a lie _knowing _I was going to tell everybody! . . . Okay I can believe that too . . . But what I _can't _believe is that she told me a lie that made _you _look bad _knowing _that I was going to tell everybody. Yeah, that's what I meant."

"I for one am not surprised," Will mumbled, sipping his coffee, "She's just like the rest of them."  
"The rest of who?" Mike asked.

"Everybody. She's just like everybody else," Will ranted bitterly, "They all _want _something from me. Popularity, sex, drugs, or some other personal gain. It doesn't even matter. The point is, she used me. And I am god damn _sick _of people using me. Especially women. They're all users and they all _suck._"

I couldn't help but feel responsible for his newly formed opinion. I mean, he'd never been bitter or distrustful before. But now . . . Well I couldn't help but feel like I'd hardened him. It seemed kind of cruelly ironic actually. He'd been the one to unthaw me - the girl made of stone. And then I'd turned him, a guy who was sweeter than any other guy I'd ever known, into an Ice Prince.

"Now that's not fair," Juliet said to him, "It's not just women. Men have been known to do their fair share of sucking."  
Everybody chose to ignore her unintentional innuendo.

"Good point Jules," Will acknowledged, "Men suck too. But I can't help but be a little biased . . . I mean, all of the people who use me are women. But maybe because I'm a guy. I'm sure if I was a chick than guys would use me. I guess there's just _something _about me that makes people want to fuck me over."

Literally _and_ figuratively.

"You feelin' alright kid?" Mike asked, concerned by Will's apparent new fascination with ranting.  
"No," Will snarled, "No I am not feeling _'alright.'_ I haven't felt _alright _in two fucking weeks. I haven't had a good night's sleep in two fucking weeks. I haven't gone six hours sober in two weeks. I haven't had a decent meal in two weeks. And I haven't felt this fucking horrible in seventeen fucking years. So to answer your question, no,_ I am sure as hell not fucking alright!" _

Towards the end of his speech his voice had increased considerably, drawing the attention of other students and causing the alarm of his friends. But he didn't need to raise his voice to get my attention or to upset me. His entire speech broke my heart. All this time I'd hated that Will appeared to be fine, even though I knew it was an act. It had just hurt to see him screwing around with other girls and having fun while I suffered. But that's when I realized that Will had been suffering just as much as me, if not more. And that hurt me a lot more than seeing him act like he was fine. Seeing him in pain did more than hurt me, it tormented me. For the first time, I wished he would just act like everything was okay and smoke some weed.

"Billy," Mike said, touching his arm, "Are you still upset about Amunet?"  
Will threw his head back and laughed bitterly. "Am I still upset about Amunet? What the _fuck _do you think?"

Kristy chose that moment to emerge from the parking lot, looking as smug as the bird who ate the canary. I could guarantee that that wouldn't last for long though. Luckily for her, Will hadn't noticed her yet. And neither had the others. They were too distracted by Will's imminent emotional breakdown.

"Will, you can't get so pent up over her," Mike told him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "She was just using you. I know that sucks to hear but it's true. She wasn't the real deal. I know it felt like it but she was just manipulating you . . . She's a user, an actress, a con-artist, a manipulator . . . a _bitch. _She's not worth it. You shouldn't let her get the best of you."

"Don't tell me what to do," Will snarled, shoving away his shoulder, just as Kristy materialized behind him.  
"Hey Billy," she chirped happily while the others all stared at her wide-eyed, like she'd just hit the 'self-destruct' button.

Will turned around to face her, with exaggerated slowness. He gave her a long, heated glare for what felt like hours but was probably only thirty seconds. Still, that was a considerable amount of time to glare at someone unrelentingly. It took Kristy about that long though to realize what he was upset about. The smile died on her lips and her eyes widened as she paled.

"Will -" she started to say.  
"Save it you lying cunt," he snarled at her, throwing his coffee on her. It landed on her exposed cleavage and stained her slutty shirt. She screamed.

"Will!" Mike exclaimed loudly.  
"Jeez dude!" Aaron joined in.

"Go fuck yourself Kristy," Will snarled, ripping off his hat and throwing it on the ground, "Because I'm certainly not going to." And with that, he stomped away. Away from Kristy, away from his friends, away from the watching, away from everybody.

"Will!" Mike called after him.  
"All of you, just leave me the fuck alone!" Will shouted back as he disappeared down to the parking lot.

"Will!" Mike shouted as he ran after him, followed by Aaron. The both of them thus abandoning the two squealing emo girls. I looked over at August to see that he was the _only fucking person in the whole courtyard_ who appeared to have _missed _the previous encounter. He was still just staring off into space unseeingly. Okay, now, I really wanted to know what the hell he was thinking about. But I also had to realize that I could use this to my advantage.

"August," I said, shaking his shoulder and forcing him to snap out of it, "August I left my phone in the car." Lie.  
"Oh . . . Oh I'll go get it," he said, still sounding like he was in a fog.

"No, no," I insisted, trying to sound like a concerned, dotting wife as I patted his knee, "You stay here . . . Relax. I'll go get it."  
His response of, "Oh okay," made me sure that whatever he was thinking about, it was important.

I immediately got up, taking my purse with me because my phone was in it and I didn't want August snooping through it and detecting my lie. Throwing discretion to the wind, I ran over to the ramp leading down to the parking lot. Once I was out of August's line of sight, in case he was watching, I removed my loud heals and threw them into the wet grass. I then began running at a faster speed, my bare feet slamming painfully against the wet pavement. I was running faster than I had ever run before, up until this point. I struggled to stop at the bottom. I could see Aaron and Mike off to the side, by the tree where Will had first kissed me, where they appeared to have just caught up to him.

Trying to be quiet, I crept as close as I could. I knelt down on the wet blacktop next to a small car, using it for cover. I leaned around the hood of it, peering at the scene in front of me. Will seemed to be walking away, down the strip of grass, head down, but Mike and Aaron had caught up with him. Mike grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back but Will kept walking, so he did it again this time harder, and this time he succeeded.

"Will," he said, turning Will around. I wasn't the only one who silently gasped when they saw Will's face. He was _crying. _It was the second time I'd seen Will cry but it was the first both Aaron and Mike had. I may have had seen Will cry before but I could honestly say it was just as heart wrenching as it had been the first time, if not then more so.

"Oh my God dude are you crying?" Aaron asked. His voice was full of shock but not ridicule. He was genuinely concerned for his friend.  
Will wiped his eyes but more tears just came coming. "I - I just . . ." he struggled to speak.

"Hey buddy it's okay," Mike tried to comfort him, maneuvering him so that he was leaning against the tree for support.  
"I just . . . I just want to die," Will sobbed, sinking down to the wet grass. He was right at my eye level and I was afraid he would see me. But I had the protection of the car and Will's bleary eyes.

"Will," Mike said sadly. Both him and Aaron were at a loss of what to do.  
"I feel like I'm already dead," Will went on in a broken voice as he cried, "Only . . . Only I don't think that being dead hurts this much. It _can't _hurt this much. _Nothing _should ever hurt this much . . . Only - only it does. It hurts so fucking much. It feels like . . . Like someone stabbed me in the chest again and again and _again_. And then left me there to die . . . Only - only I _won't _die. God just won't _let _me die. It's like - like a cruel joke. Like God left me alive only so I can bleed out and suffer forever and forever without any hope of an end."

"Will . . . What is this about?" Aaron asked, frightened by his Will's melt down.  
"Amunet," Will sobbed, "What else would it be about? It's . . . It's _always_ been about _her." _

"I . . . I don't understand," Aaron admitted..  
"I'm in love with her you idiot," Will said brokenly, "And . . . And she doesn't love me back. And that . . . _that _is the worse feeling in the entire world. It physically _hurts. _I have this _physical_ pain in my chest. It feels like . . . like someone ripped out my heart and ripped it apart . . . And then put it back together the wrong way before sticking it back in me. It's still there but it doesn't _work _right. It's _broken. _Just - just like me. I . . . I feel _broken. __Like a toy that has batteries but it's too broken for that to even matter. _I have everything that used to make me happy . . . Drugs, girls, my friends, parties . . . But none of that matters anymore. I - I just don't work right anymore. Amunet changed me . . . Without even - without even realizing it. She changed me so that we could be together . . . So that I wouldn't need those - those stupid things. So that I would only need her. But then - then she broke my heart and left me. And now . . . Now I can't remember how to be happy without her."

Tears escaped my eyes and I had to resist the urge to sob.

"I used to be happy you know? Being the fuck up I was . . ." he went on, "I - I was okay with that. But then I met _her _and nothing felt right anymore unless I was with her. But when I _was _with her I felt more right than I had ever felt before. When I was with her . . . I was happier than I'd ever been before. It was like she'd introduced me to this new breed of happiness. . . But then she took it away. And now - and now that old kid of happiness doesn't feel like happiness at all."

"It feels like hell . . ." he managed through his sobs, "No - no that's not right. Because Nettie . . . She could make even hell feel like heaven for me . . . As long as she was with me. But without her . . . even Earth feels like the deepest pit of hell."

He paused for a minute so that he could sob some more. Hearing him sob and seeing him cry and shake . . . It just killed me. I ached to run to him and hold him and cry with him. But all I could was cover my mouth with my hand and cry silently off to the side, where he couldn't see me or hear me or know that I loved him.

"Man," Mike said, kneeling down to put a hand on Will's shoulder, "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you felt that way about her.  
Will uselessly wiped his eyes. "It - it doesn't even matter. Because - because she'll never love me back. She - she told me herself. She told me that - that she _hated _me. And that . . . that was the single most horrible moment in my entire life. You wouldn't believe how much it hurts."

"Billy. I'm sorry dude. That fucking sucks," Aaron said, copying Mike's position.  
"If only that was all," Will muttered, "Could you - could you guys just leave me alone? I . . . I really need to be alone now."

"Okay," Mike said, getting up, "But I'm going to be back soon. I'm telling Brooks you're sick and I'm taking you home to Bindy."  
Will didn't say anything and Mike decided he should probably get moving so he grabbed Aaron and they disappeared, leaving Will and me alone. Of course, Will didn't know I was there.

It was so weird, seeing him all alone, with absolutely no walls up. He leaned back against the tree and cried his eyes out. He was sobbing with the kind of vehemence I had sobbed with so many times since our breakup. He slammed his head against the tree over and over again as his body shook his sobs and his trembling hands gripping the wet grass at his sides.

"Why . . . Why . . . Why . . . Why," he sobbed to himself each time he smacked his head against the tree, "Why God? What did I do to deserve this?"  
Sometimes, I asked myself the same question.

"Doesn't my life suck enough?" he demanded of God, "Why God . . . Why do you hate me so much? Why do you keep making bad things happen to me? First you destroy my home and uproot my family. Then you tear my family apart and cause my mother the same heartbreak you're causing me now. And then you make my dad hate me too . . . So much that he can't go a month without putting me in the hospital. And then . . . And then you do something nice for me God . . . You give me Amunet. You give me the most amazing girl in the world . . . You make me love her . . . And then you take her away. Knowing that . . . that now I'm worse off than I ever was before."

"Are you trying to tell me something God? Is this your way of saying that I shouldn't have been born? That my grandparents were right and my mother should have gotten an abortion? I mean . . . I mean she was only fourteen . . . But she . . . But she wanted to keep me. And I - I ruined her life. So to make up for it God, you've decided to ruin mine. Well congratulations God, it _worked_! You got your wish! _Are you happy now!"_ he screamed at the sky.

He let his head fall forward as sobs began to shake him again. Just as powerful sobs shook me as well but I kept my hand over my mouth to keep from being loud. I stared at the devastated figure of my love and all i wanted to do was go to him. To hold him in my arms and sob along with him as I tried to tell him it was okay. I wanted to _so_ badly. And he was _so_ close.

Over my sobs I could hear clonking footsteps getting closer, so I ducked back further behind the car for cover, keeping my hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my sobs. I peered over at Will to see him trying to get a hold of himself. He was wiping his eyes and taking deep breaths. By the time Mike and Aaron arrived in the parking lot and made his way over to Will, Will had already stopped crying. He still looked like hell; with his face flushed and tear streaked and his eyes bloodshot.

"I told Brooks that you were feeling sick and that I was going to take you home," Mike said, "She didn't care. She's too busy stressing about losing her job."  
"Okay," he said in response, getting to his feet and rubbing his eyes.

Aaron went over to him and clamped him on the back. "Hey buddy, you feelin' alright?" he asked, noting how much calmer Will appeared.  
Will sniffled a bit and wiped his eyes again. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Whoa, sorry about that guys . . . I really don't know what came over me," he said, sounding almost normal.

"I told you man, those fucking ecstasy hangovers are the worst," Aaron said, totally buying that he was just having a bad post-reaction to ecstasy, seeing as he'd had a bad reaction to it in the first place.  
"Yeah," Will said.

"I still think we should take you home though," Mike said. He wasn't completely sold that this was just Will's post drug binge freak out. He believed that Will maybe, just maybe, actually felt that way. All of that contributed to his decision that they should take Will home before the hangover caused him to have another breakdown.

"Yeah, that'd be fine," Will said, "Hey, you guys wanna come over and play Xbox?"  
"Sure. Way better than school," Aaron said, acting as if nothing had ever happened, because he'd already erased it in his mind.

Mike though, hesitated a bit. He wasn't afraid of Will or anything. He just didn't want to be around for the next breakdown, which he felt could happen today due to the ecstasy hangover, which were known to make people depressed. "Yeah why not," he finally agreed, "I mean, Heather's not here so I already know school would suck today anyway."

"Cool," Will said casually as they all began to walk away. I watched from my hiding spot as they made their way towards Mike's car. They had to pass by the car I was hiding behind to get there, seeing as it was on the opposite side of the parking lot.  
"We should go get pizza," Aaron said.

"It's eight o'clock in the morning," Mike said.  
"I'm sorry, I don't remember there being a law that said pizza consumption cannot take place during morning hours," Aaron returned sarcastically.

"Pizza in the morning is gross," Mike argued.  
"No, _cold_ pizza in the morning is gross," he disagreed.

"Cold pizza is gross all the time."  
"Oh my God stop," Will begged, "All this talk of food is making me ill."

"Oh yeah I forgot," Aaron said, "Ecstasy hangovers fucking kill your appetite."  
"I haven't eaten a damn thing all day," Will said.

"Try eating something light. Like fruit or something. Or else you get all . . ." I let Aaron's voice fade out as they got farther away. I didn't want to hear anymore. It may have been an idiotic conversation they were having, but I was still completely shaken from Will's breakdown. It had left me . . . emotionally scarred. More so than I was before. Now, I wanted to be with Will even more than I ever had before. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and tell him I loved him. I _ached_ to. But I couldn't. And that killed me. I let my teary eyes wander to him again, where he was walking away from me.

He was less than fifteen feet away from me, but it felt like the Grand Canyon stood in our way.


	43. Oppressed Girl

**Oppressed Girl**

Arriving at school with August was kind of like how I imagined arriving into the capitol city with the country's dictator would feel like. Everybody stared at us with faint admiration - like they secretly wanted to be us. But of course, that was overshadowed by the fear and hate they felt towards us. We weren't well liked, but we were highly respected.

I found that shocking. I hardly respected myself any more at this point. I felt entirely useless. I felt like I was wasting valuable time. Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do about that. August kept me on an extremely short leash. He was practically breathing down my throat half the time. Sometimes I supposed that maybe he wasn't as fooled by my innocent act as I thought he was. He certainly _acted_ like he expected me to plunge a dagger between his shoulder blades at any given moment.

It was certainly tempting; what with the way he acted like he owned me. I suppose he did own me, but it was still rude to make it so obvious. He always had that damn arm around my damn waist. It might as well have been a leash. He treated me just like a lapdog after all. A decorative, amusing pet.

How it wasn't obvious to everyone that he owned me I did not know. How it wasn't obvious to Will that I didn't want to be with August I did not know either.

I could see him, Will, over by the steps, appearing perfectly at ease. He was standing on the railing, looking important at the highest elevation in the courtyard. He was smiling and chatting animatedly with Aaron and Mike. The only evidence that yesterday's incident had even occurred was the fact that Kristy was keeping her distance from him. He didn't give off the impression of still being mad but she was wary of him; afraid of pissing him off. So she sat off to the side with Juliet, quietly braiding her hair, giving him his space.

I started veering away from them, heading for the bench that August and I usually occupied, but he pulled me away - towards the stairs where Will and his friends lounged.

"August," I hissed quietly in his ear, pulling uselessly on his arm, "Where are you going?"  
"I need to have a chat with William," he said steadily, his voice giving no indication to what type of chat. I could only assume it was bad.

"Leave him alone," I growled, pitching my voice low, "You promised you'd leave him alone."  
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt him."

"Then what are you-" I whispered just as we reached the foot of the stairs.  
"William Sharp," August boomed, "Just the man I wanted to see."

Five pairs of accusatory eyes fell on August. Not a single gaze held a drop of anything but pure hatred. Four of those five gazes slid over to me with the same look of intense hatred in them.

"What the fuck do you want?" Aaron snarled at August. He wasn't sure who he hated more; me for breaking Will's heart or August for stealing me away from Will.  
"Nothing of any interest to you, little gothic urchin," August returned curtly, his voice implying that he did not particularly want to waste time talking to Aaron.

Aaron picked up on August's dismissal of him and was not pleased. His face flushed and he stuttered a bit. He was spared from answering though by Mike.  
"Get out of here dirt bag," Mike snarled at August before sliding his steely gaze over to me, "And take her with you."

"Wait," Will said, looking down at us from his perch on the railing, "I want to know what he has to say." And of course, the others complied to his will. They weren't pleased about it but they did what they could to appease Will. He was like their petulant prince and they were his subjects. They often questioned his judgment but in the end, they did what he asked. Around here, Will always got his way.

"Privacy?" August hinted obnoxiously.  
Will's friends looked to him questioningly. He nodded and they grabbed their stuff before scattering.

"Goodbye juvenile delinquents," August called with mock sweetness. Mike flipped him off silently without looking back while Aaron mumbled curses under his breath. The girls were quiet, but their thoughts were quite vocally hateful. Towards me of course, not August.

"So . . . what gives?" Will asked as he jumped lithely from his perch on the railing. I could tell he was trying not to look at me.  
"I came 'ere to apologize to you Will," August said, shocking us both.

"Apologize?" Will repeated, "You . . . want to . . ._apologize_?"  
"Yes. For what happened to us. We used to be mates, yes? Before this whole mess. Amunet's sorry too. She never meant to drag you into our relationship in such a horrible way. Isn't that right dear?" he asked. The shake he gave me to urge to respond was a little harder than called for. I could tell that Will took notice of that as well.

I didn't know what he was playing at but I decided to play along. "Yes," I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, "Terribly sorry."  
Will narrowed his eyes at me, making it clear that he didn't buy either of the apologies. I was glad. I'd purposely kept the emotion out of my voice so Will wouldn't buy it. Because if Will thought I was lying, then August would think I was lying. And then he wouldn't be suspicious.

"That all?" Will demanded, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  
"No. I'd also like to apologize for starting that nasty rumor about you," August said.

I froze along with Will. "What. Rumor," he demanded.  
"Just a silly little story I fabricated when I was sore about your former relationship with Amunet," August said with a unconcerned air.

"What. Rumor," Will repeated.  
"Just a little tale about you and some oral sex," August said, his voice implied that he thought it was no big deal. But I knew he was only making it seem like he didn't care to piss Will off even more. That bastard. Now I knew what he was playing at. At least . . . I thought I did. I didn't. At least not fully.

"You started that rumor?" Will demanded, outraged,  
"I told you it wasn't me," I muttered under my breath.

He glared at me briefly before returning his stormy gaze towards August. "I can't believe you started that rumor! Haven't you fucked with me enough already? Was it really necessary to start some stupid rumor about me? Which has now escalated thanks to my slut friend who told people I gave her oral too. Which of course, everybody believed _thanks_ to the already pre-established rumor that I'll go down on anything female. Actually, I guess I owe the thanks to _you_."

"Now, now, don't be sore William," August said, "That was weeks ago. It's over now."  
"It was _two_ weeks ago and it's _not_ over with," Will growled, "I just found out that somebody spray painted 'whore' on my locker just yesterday!"

I'd seen that. It had been spray painted in hot pink. I'd been glad he hadn't been there to see it. People had been laughing and that would have upset Will. I'd been pretty upset myself by how mean kids were. I did appreciate the few kids who saw the unnecessary cruelty in the act though.

"Tell ya what mate," August said, "To make it up to you, I'm invitin' you to come to the party my parents are throwin' at the manor tonight."  
"You're having a party?" I demanded.

"I'm invited?" Will chimed in, sounding just as perplexed.  
"Why of course," August said, "It's my father's birthday after all." I wasn't sure what question he was answering.

I was going to meet August's parents, assuming I was invited of course. As terrified as I was of the possibility of going to August's house I was also interested in meeting the brain dead idiots who hadn't realized their son was being possessed.

"Hmm, now tell me August, what would be an appropriate birthday present for Satan?" Will snapped sarcastically.  
August laughed indulgently. "Now, now, don't be petty William. I'm trying to be nice," he said, his tone almost threatening.

Will raised an eyebrow and barked a laugh. "Yeah. I doubt that," he sneered. I felt my chest tighten. It was my fault he was so cynical, after all.  
"C'mon William," August urged, "It's going to be a lovely gathering. Quite the soiree actually. Black Tie."

"Well bula . . . _bula_," Will drawled sarcastically.  
"Won't you come Will?" August petitioned, "Amunet would just love to have you there, wouldn't you princess?"

His grip on my waist tightened until it was painful. I winced. "Yes," I ground out between my teeth, trying not to wince.  
"See? Now won't you come. You may bring a guest, if you like," August sweetened the pot.

"Fine," Will said, grabbing his bag off the floor and slinging it over one shoulder, "I'll come. I need directions though."  
"They're yours," August said and Will flinched slightly before shaking his head slightly as if to clear it.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he turned away, towards the building.  
"And William," August called after him, causing him to pause and look over his shoulder, "You do have a suit, don't you?"

Will smirked sardonically. "Please. I go to Black Tie events all the time. You have to when you nail as many rich bitches as I do." A wicked smirk was painted on his perfect lips but his eyes held spite, not mirth. He wasn't looking at August though. He was looking at me with eyes that clearly said _"Look how well I'm doing without you."_

August laughed at Will's comment, as if they were just two normal guys laughing over a sex reference. "Well I'll see you at eight then," he said.  
"Eight it is," Will said, "Now if you don't mind, I have an appointment with the principle to 'discuss' my 'episode' in Mrs. Brooks class the other day."

"But they didn't call -" I began as he walked away. He held up a finger.  
_"William Sharp to the main office. William Sharp to the main office," _droned the voice of the secretary over the PA service.

"What I tell you," he muttered, "Anyway, see you tonight. Auggie, Nettie." The way he said the fond nicknames made it clear he didn't think very fondly of either of us.  
"Billy," August returned in the same tone.

Will flipped him off in a friendly manner before disappearing inside.  
August sighed. "What a remarkable ability is his . . ." he trailed off appreciatively, "To see into the future . . .

I ignored him. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded, my voice an angry hiss, "Why would you go out of your way to talk to him! You know he hates us!"  
"I believe he hates you just a tad more my dear," he said.

I snorted. I doubted that. Will may have treated me with icy spite, but I knew that he still loved me. Even if he did hate me, I knew he still loved me. I'd seen the truth in his eyes when he'd broken down in front of Aaron and Mike. He loved me, still. But that didn't change the fact that he hated me for what I'd done to him. I speculated that, because he loved me, he hated me even more than he would hate any other cheating ex.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I demanded of August, brushing off his attempt to upset and thus distract me.  
"I don't know what you're talking about flower," he lied through his teeth.

"Don't fucking lie to me," I said, pushing him away, "I know you're up to something."  
He reached out in a lightning fast moment and secured his hand tightly around my wrist. Painfully tight. "If I tell you something," he growled, pulling me close enough so that his face was a mere inch from mine, "You better believe it's the fucking truth."

"August," I said, struggling against him out of fear of this flare of his infamous temper, "You're hurting me."  
"Good," he snarled, "You gotta fucking learn not to question me. I know best."

"Okay," I said desperately, praying for him to let me go.  
"Say it," he snarled, grabbing my face roughly.

"You know best," I repeated, my voice muffled by his fingers pressing in on my cheeks.  
"Good," he snarled, "Now no more stupid questions. Or you're going to regret asking them."

I let my eyes slide over to the crowd of onlookers. Not many people remained in the courtyard but the ones who did had their eyes trained on us in shock. August followed my gaze and seemed to remember that we were in public. He released me entirely and paused for a moment looking around. After surveying the area and coming down to reality he picked up my hand gently and began rubbing my wrist soothingly.

"Sorry princess," he apologized, sounding like he was back to normal. I couldn't tell if he was being sincere though, or just putting on a show for the crowd. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes," I snapped. I was acting annoyed but really, I was relieved. I'd half expected him to beat me again - in front of all these people.  
"Here. Let me kiss it make it better," he said, gently lifting my hand to his mouth before applying a butterfly kiss to my wrist. Still holding my hand gingerly he stepped closer to me and kissed my lower cheek, where I was sure his fingers had left marks. He moved his mouth all the way down my cheek to my jaw and then back up my other cheek - kissing every spot he'd affected when he'd grabbed me.

This public display of affection served to scare away some of the onlookers. Of course, it also served to hold the attention of others. Many teens retreated inside for first period which would shortly begin, but others lingered, watching us with interest. Some were interested in our display of affection while others were intrigued by how August had gone from yelling at me to practically licking the underside of my jaw in submission.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked sweetly, looking up at me as he paused in his deliverance of beseeching kisses.  
"Yes. I forgive you." I didn't have a choice.

"Thank you my little African princess," he purred, moving his mouth up to peck me on the lips. It went from a peck to a full blown French kiss in mere seconds. He had a hand behind my head as he kissed me in a passionate, but not aggressive way. It was a good solid minute before he pulled away. "Don't worry flower," he said when he pulled back, "It won't happen again. I promise."

Two phrases I was uncomfortable with. _"I promise"_ and _"It won't happen again."_ I'd promised things before. I'd promised Will I wouldn't hurt him. I'd broken that promise. August had promised not to hurt me again and he'd broken that promise too. And I was sure he was going to break it again.

"I have a surprise for you tonight Am," he said as he absently stroked my sore wrist with his thumb.  
Oh Good God . . . .

"What is it?" I asked anxiously. I could just imagine the type of 'surprise' he'd like to give me.  
"Your new car," he purred, lifting my hand to his cheek and nuzzling it gently.

Good God.  
"Oh . . . cool," I said in a small voice, struggling to calm myself.

I couldn't help but remember what I'd promised to do for August when he got me my car.


	44. Whole Girl

**Whole Girl**

"Oh - Am, you're home."

I gave my mother a steely glare as I crossed my arms over my chest. I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown and she had the nerve to bring her little boy toy intern home with her? The guy literally looked like he was my age. He couldn't be older than twenty, if he was even that. And my thirty-nine year old mother was banging him. Ew.

"Yeah, I'm home," I snapped, tapping my heal against the hardwood floor.  
"But you're going out," she prompted while her boy toy cowered behind her.

"What makes you think that?" I sneered in annoyance. I was stressed over August's party tonight and this encounter was not helping.  
"Well you're waiting by the door wearing a ball gown," she said smarmily.

"Yeah. I'm going out," I said bluntly, refusing to recognize the fact that she was right, "My boyfriend's having a party tonight."  
"That burn out kid Will is throwing a keger and you're wearing _that_?" she asked snootily, raising an eyebrow.

Did she really think I would wear _this_ to some teenage party? I was wearing a form-fitting, silk, strapless, floor-length, glittery, black gown for God's sake. I had gold bracelets around my wrists and an elaborate gold choker on with dozens of chains falling from it. My heels were a good four inches high but my dress covered them. My hair was down and I had gold eyeshadow and red lipstick on. I looked like I was going to prom; not a fucking house party.

"First off, Will and I broke up two weeks ago. I'm dating August now. His father's the ambassador of Australia and I'm going to his birthday party at their mansion," I explained to her in annoyance. I wasn't sure what annoyed me more; the fact that she had called Will a burn out, or the fact that she was so out-of-touch with my life that she didn't realize that we'd broken up.

"Fancy, fancy," was all she said but really, she was glad I'd broken up with that _"kid who was going nowhere in life."__  
_"Yeah. So if you two could hold off on the intercourse until August picks me up . . . That'd be great," I sneered at them.

"Oh Amunet . . . " my mother mumbled in exasperation, rolling her eyes as her boy toy ran his hands through his hair and stared at the floor in embarrassment. My mother elbowed him gently in the stomach to get his attention. He looked up at her and she nodded towards me, prompting him to introduce himself.

"I'm Tony," he said as he stepped out of my mother's shadow, holding out his hand.  
I kept my arms crossed and looked at his outstretched hand for a moment. "I'm not calling you Daddy," I told him plainly.

"Wasn't expecting you to," he mumbled as he ran a hand through his light brown hair nervously.  
"Ignore my daughter Tony," my mother soothed him, coming up behind him and rubbing circles on his back, "She hates any guy I date."

"I don't hate the guys you date Mom, I hate the fact that they're closer to my age than to yours," I snapped.  
My mother shook her head in a _'you just don't understand'_ fashion. "I might as well use my looks while they last," was all she said, as if that was an explanation.

"And what better way to do that than to bang little sluts half your age?" I quipped.  
"Amunet Dendera Lamorte," my mother thundered, "You watch your mouth and apologize to Anthony."

I looked over at Anthony with a raised eyebrow, giving him a speculative once over. He was certainly good looking. My mother had good taste, I'd give her that. He was probably fresh out of high school, but the stubble on his chin made him look about college age. He was tan with tousled light brown hair, puppy dog eyes, and an attractive face and body. He was dressed nicely too; in dark jeans and a green button up shirt.

"Anthony," I said, looking him dead in the eye, "I am sorry that you are such a little slut."  
He looked shocked but he recovered quickly. "And I'm sorry that you're such a little bitch," he retorted with surprised heat.

I had to admit, I did respect him more after that last comment. Of course, not enough to stop me from wanting to rip his testicles off over it.

"Amunet! Anthony!" my mother bellowed, sounding like she was scolding her two children. That made me smirk. Anthony just raised an eyebrow in a _'you're kidding' _way. He didn't appreciate being treated like a child. He may have been half her age but he considered himself an equal in their relationship. She didn't.

"Tony," my mother hissed between her teeth. She did not want him to start this now.  
He just crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a look that clearly said _'if you want to keep fucking me . . .' _He was as every bit as petulant and stubborn as any teenager I'd ever met. Probably because he was one.

"Amunet," my mother said sternly, turning to me as she realized that disciplining her boyfriend was not going to fly, "You are grounded. Give me your car keys."  
She was holding out her hand for my keys and I stared at her hand. After a silent moment, I reached into my purse and handed her my keys. "Take 'em. I don't need them."

Just then I noticed headlights flood through the window from the corner of my eye. It was accompanied by the thundering hum of a luxury sports car. A devious smirk crossed my lips.

"I don't need them because August can take me anywhere I want to go," I sneered and grabbed the door handle.  
"Amunet don't you dare get in that boy's car," she warned.

"I'm not," I said, "I'm going to get in my new car that my rich boyfriend is giving me for having sex with him."  
"Amunet Dendera Lamorte!" she said, sounding like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

"Goodbye mother," I said, slamming the door behind me. Using telekinesis, I locked it so she'd have to struggle with that to get to me. I lifted my skirt slightly so I could descend the porch without hurting myself. I made my way down the walkway and up the driveway, my heels clicking against the ground as I went.

"AMUNET!" my mother screamed out at me from the porch as I reached my new car. I looked over my shoulder at her with a look of pure anger. I hadn't been so mad at my mother in years. My life was in shambles and she didn't even care, she didn't even notice. As long as she got to fuck her little love toy, she could care less about me. And that pissed me off.

Without another word I angrily pounded on the window of my new tiny sports car until August got out, looking aggravatingly debonair and absolutely prime evil in a black suit.

"What 'tis it love?" he asked.  
"I'm driving," I told him heatedly.

"Alright princess," he said passively, getting into the passenger seat as I threw myself into the driver's seat and put my healed foot to the gas. The car took off, roaring underneath me as I turned around on the col-de-sac and sped down the hill.

"Everything alright princess?" August asked.  
"No," I muttered irately, "My mom's being a bitch. Trying to make me get along with her little sex toy intern who is like my age."

"I'm sorry lovie," he said, "Don't worry. You'll forget all about her at the party."  
"Good," I snapped volatilely, although I wasn't so sure that it _was_ good.

"You'll have a great time," he promised.  
"Wait a minute," I realized, "I don't know where you live."

"Relax darling," he said, "I'll give you directions. It's not far from here." We didn't speak for the rest of the way, except for him telling me to turn here or take a left there. I of course couldn't help but notice that we had entered a very upscale neighborhood containing large elegant houses that were few and far between. At the end of the road there was a large mansion on top of a hill with fancy cars parked all along it's winding driving and out front on the curb. I had a pretty good idea of who lived there.

"This one right 'ere flower," he said, pointing to that exact house.  
"Shocking," I muttered, "Ugh, we're going to have to walk up that whole big hill."

"I'll carry you if you want princess," he teased.  
I snorted. "Just because I don't like walking uphill doesn't mean I can't," I snapped, refusing to be carried by August.

"I was kidding dear," he said.  
I didn't respond to that. "Where the hell am I supposed to park?" I demanded.

"Over there is fine," he said, pointing at the end of a large line of cars.  
I made a face and groaned. "For the love of Christ . . ." I muttered. It was going to take forever to get up to that damn house.

I parked the car behind a bright yellow sports car and killed the engine. I took the keys out of the ignition and stashed them in my purse.  
"So I take it you like the car?" he inquired.

"Yes," I said, "I like it a lot."  
Even in the darkness that filled the car, I could see the devilish smile that crossed his lips. "Good," he said, but the one word had a million sinister implications.

Immediately I opened the car door and stepped outside. With my heels on, I could see over the small car to see August standing on the other side of the car. It may have been late, but there were lights coming from all over. The entire mansion on the hill was lit up, lights streaming out of every window with the porch lights on as well. People were everywhere, all dressed immaculately and making their way up to the house.

"Let's get going," I said, beginning the walk to the driveway. He caught up with me with ease and we began the endless trek to the house. The driveway seemed never ending. August had an arm around my waist as I made the horrid journey in my accursed heels. We were both silent but occasionally I noticed August shooting friendly smiles at certain people. Probably people who knew the _real_ August.

When we finally reached the front door there was a line to get in. A fucking line. It was August's damn house and we had to wait on a line to get in. I'm surprised that he was okay with that. I half expected him to just push everybody aside and storm in like the petulant brat he was. But maybe the _real_ August wasn't like that, and this 'August' didn't want to tip people off by acting out of character. He was smart, I'd give him that.

When we finally reached the door the man in the suit let us in without asking for our names. He obviously recognized August. He lived here after all. Inside, the house was extravagant. I mean my house was nice, but it still looked like a house. This looked more like a reception hall; a really nice and really large reception hall. The room was circularly shaped and the walls were bathed in white with intricate designs carved into them. There were tables of refreshments and people in formal clothing everywhere. Nicely dressed waiters delivered drinks and Hors d'œuvre to guests.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, stepping inside. I was familiar with higher living, but not this high.  
"Nice it 'n it?" he asked, smiling. "Look there's me Mum and Dad."

I looked where he was nodding to see Harrison and Katherine Bronze standing across the room, mingling with other wealthy people. Harrison and Katherine looked just like they did in the picture of them that Heather had shown me. Harrison Bronze was your average middle aged man with thinning hair, but without the beer belly. He was wearing an expensive looking suit and the smile on his lips made it clear that he was born to be a politician. His wife, Katherine, looked every bit as charismatic. She appeared a little younger than her husband, but that was probably due to the Botox. Her fair hair was short and sleek and her gown was an alluring forest green color. They looked like too very successful people.

Who were too stupid to realize their son had been possessed.

"Let's go say hello," I said.  
"Certainly," he agreed, leading me across the room. People glanced at us and smiled and August smiled back like he knew them.

"Auggie! There you are," Katherine Bronze rejoiced in a distinct Australian accent when we neared her, breaking away from her conversation to come greet us.  
"Sorry mum," he apologized for his lateness smoothly, "Amunet's is pretty far out there though."

"Ah yes," she said, turning to me with a smile, "The famous Amunet. You must be her. I've heard so much about you."  
"And I've heard nothing of you," I said. It wasn't meant to be a joke, but they both laughed anyway.

"That's probably for the best," she said in her fluttery, delighted voice, "Right Auggie?"  
"Certainly," he agreed, "The stories I have to tell about you mum are not the sort of stories you want people hearing."

"Oh hush. Harrison," she called daintily, "Come over here and meet your son's girlfriend."  
Mr. Bronze smiled to the people he was conversing with before departing and coming to stand beside his wife. He had a glass of champagne in his hand.

"You must be Amunet," he said in a smooth, accented voice, reaching out with his unoccupied hand to shake mine.  
"Yes I am," I said.

"My son's told us all about you," he went on.  
I let my eyes slide over to give August an accusatory glare. "So I've heard."

"You're just as beautiful as Auggie said you were," he said, smiling at me.  
"Makeup helps," I said quietly.

"And modest too," Katherine giggled, "Don't let this one go Auggie."  
"I certainly won't mum," he said, his slips set in a sinister grin.

He certainly will when I certainly _make_ him.

"Lovely," she rejoiced, "I'd love to stay and chat but there's so many we have to mingle with."  
"It's alright," I said.

"Do stop by more often," she insisted though, "So we can get to know each other better."  
"Will do," I lied.

"It was nice meeting you Amunet," Harrison Bronze said, "Your blood seems worth bottling."  
I stared at them in confusion and disgust as they walked off together to go mingle with others.

"What did he just say to me?" I demanded of August. I thought his parents were humans!  
"It's an expression," he explained, "Obviously not an American expression."

"What the hell does it mean?" I asked.  
"It means he thinks your a nice person," he explained.

"Well that's an awful creepy way of saying it," I muttered.  
He shrugged, beginning to guide me in the direction of the bar. "It's the way people talk back home."

"How come you never talk like that?" I asked. My voice held a note of accusation.  
"Do you want me to talk like that?" he retorted.

"I'd like to see it," I hinted, not believing he could. Seeing as he wasn't the real August.  
"All 'ight," he said, "You asked for it."

He led me over to the bar and said to the bartender, "Two glasses of Montrachet. None of that plonk for us."  
I had no clue what that meant, and neither did the bartender, who obviously wasn't Australian. But he did know what kind of wine August had asked for. Apparently it was ridiculously expensive. I wasn't surprised.

"Thanks mate," August said when the bartender handed each of us a glass of wine.  
"Your parents let you drink?" I asked him.

"Course they do. All the top poppies I know let their children drink," he said with a shrug.  
I cursed myself for challenging him. Obviously he could keep up the Australian facade but chose not to. Which meant he'd been pretending to be the real August for longer than I thought.

I gave him a glare to tell him he could stop but he just smirked back. I was about to verbally tell him to knock it off when a guy came over to us. He looked around our age, maybe in his early twenties with thick wavy brown hair and an expensive suit on his body. He held a flute of champagne as he waltzed over to us.

"Auggie Bronze," he said in an accented voice, "Long time no see mate."  
August raised his glass to him. "That'd be right," he said. "Amunet, this is Carter. We've been mates since kindie, right Carter?"

"Right," he agreed, "I can't remember the last time I saw you. Not since your daddy became a polly and you all went O.S. last year."  
"It's down right tragic that we haven't kept up our contacts," August said, nodding and lifting his glass.

Carter shrugged. "The past is the past. So when are you all coming back to Oz?"  
"I don't have the slightest idea," August said in response.

"Soon I imagine," Carter said, "You all must miss the Big Smokes, after being stuck out here in the middle of bloody nowhere."  
"Well I've had this sheila to keep me entertained," August said, securing a hand around my waist.

"Entertained huh?" Carter said, smirking.  
"Not like that," August disagreed, "Not until tonight that is."

Even I got that.

Carter grinned at him, assuming me too stupid to keep up with the conversation. "And how you gonna do that mate?"  
"Get her downright rotten," August explained, smirking.

"You'll need a whole lot more plonk than that then," he said, looking at the glass in my hand.  
"Not much more," August disagreed, "She's a two pot screamer."

And just like that I was lost again.

"Ah so a few more glasses and you'll have her rooted enough to show you her Mappa Tassie."  
My _what_?

"Hopefully she'll do more than show," August said, smirking.  
"Um hello?" I spoke up, "I am right here. Just because I don't know exactly what you're saying doesn't mean I don't know that you're talking about getting me plastered and then fucking me."

"Plastered?" Carter repeated.  
"Now how do you know that's what we were talking about?" August demanded of me, ignoring Carter.

"Because I'm not an idiot?" I asked, going heavy on the sarcasm.  
He must have decided denying it wasn't going to work. "Well we did have a deal, didn't we princess?"

"Well the deals off unless you stop using words I don't understand," I snapped petulantly.  
"Deal on then," he said, smirking.

I had no fucking clue how I was going to get out of this.

"It was great seeing you Carter," August was saying, "But I'll 'ave to catch up with you later. I see another bloke over there that I need to speak with."  
"Sure thing Auggie," Carter said, shaking his hand, "I'll catch you later. You too sheila."

I glared at him as he walked away before turning to August. "So which one of these pretentious bastards do you want to talk with now?"  
He lifted his glass in the direction of the door. "That one."

I followed his gesture towards the entrance, to see Will just walking in. I wasn't sure what shocked me more. The fact that he had actually shown up or the fact that he was wearing a suit. He looked . . . absolutely stunning. He just seemed so debonair with a suit on. Granted, his hair was still a shaggy mess with black tips, but somehow that made him look even better. It personalized his outfit.

He was flanked on either side by a skank. Xana on his left and Little Lyn on his right. They stuck out like sore thumbs . . . Granted, exotically gorgeous sore thumbs but still. Xana was wearing a blood red gown with a slit going all the way up her leg. She'd dyed her hair since the last time I'd seen her. It used to be white and purple; now it was white and red. To match her dress.

Little Lyn was even more flamboyant. Her dress was short and made out of metallicy, hot pink material that bunched together. Her pastel streaked blonde hair had all sorts of pink beads adorning it and around her eyes, she had painted a pink masquerade mask. She looked like she was a part of Circ de Soleil.

"I can't believe he showed up," I said to August in reference to Will.  
"I can," August said with a devious smirk, beginning to stride over to the trio.

I kept pace with him without looking too conscious. "I swear to God August if you hurt him I will disembowel you with a rusty can opener," I hissed at him.  
"Relax darling," he said smoothly.

"I mean it August," I went on, "You swore not to hurt him. We had a deal. If you break it I'll make you regret it."  
"If I didn't know better desert flower," he said, "I would think you still had feelings for him."

"What do you care how I feel?" I snarled, "As long as I'm yours, right?"  
"That's right," he sung lowly, "You're mine."

"That's right," I agreed grudgingly, "So you have no reason to want to hurt him."  
"Right," he said, but I felt like he was lying.

I was about to press on but we'd arrived. Now we were face to face with Will and his harem.  
"William," August said in a friendly tone, "You made it."

Will shrugged. "Yeah well these ritzy parties always have really good liquor so . . ." he trailed off. Now that we were so close, I could see a fresh bruise on his jaw.  
"Still, how lovely of you to join us," he said, "So who are these gorgeous ladies?"

"This is Xana," Will said, gesturing to each girl as he said their name, "And this is Little Lyn. Girls, you remember August. From _Nightmare_?"  
Little Lyn made a face like she didn't remember him but Xana nodded slowly, her serious gaze falling on me for a minute. "I remember," she said.

I thought back to that night and felt a chill go down my spine.

"Well it's wonderful to meet you formally," August said, shaking each of their hands. Xana looked reluctant to touch him but eventually did. August and Little Lyn began talking then, casually, just about Nightmare. But still, I was surprised she felt comfortable enough to talk to him. Xana obviously didn't. She just stared at me the entire time with those big, somber eyes. She wasn't the only one staring at me though. Will was too. And the look in his eyes was absolutely mournful.

It was just a devastated look. It was a combination of anger, sadness, longing. But most of all, mourning. He was looking at me like one would look at a deceased loved one lying in a casket. With love, but with the conviction that what you're looking at is not really the person you loved. That was how Will was looking at me. Like I was a shell. Like the real me was gone forever. Like he'd loved the real me. Like he missed the real me.

And that's when I decided that I couldn't let Will suffer anymore. Consequences be damned. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't keep lying. It was killing me to hurt Will over and over and over again. I couldn't go on like this. I had to end this. Tonight. _Right now._

Channeling my telekinesis, I ever so slightly tilted August's wine glass forward as he went to take a sip. The red liquid spilled down the front of his suit, causing him to jump back and nearly drop the glass.

"Mother fucker," he muttered in annoyance, looking down at his stained suit.  
"You should go wash that out before it stains," I suggested.

"You're right," he mumbled the agreement, "I'll be right back."  
And as expected, he walked away, off to go clean his suit. I had to bite back the smirk.

Xana, oh intuitive Xana, must have realized I was trying to stick it to August and she smiled at me. "Lyn?" she said to the small blonde, "How about we go get drinks."  
"Ohh yummy!" she squealed, "You coming Will?"

He was about to say yes but I cut him off. "How about just you to go?" I suggested, "I need to talk to Will."  
Little Lyn frowned, seeming more annoyed than the situation demanded. "Alright," she pouted.

"C'mon Little Lyn," Xana said, leading her away. I watched them walk away until they were out of earshot before turning back to Will. His mournful expression was gone and now he just looked pissed. I forced myself to remember that under that angry exterior was a broken interior. His hate was fueled by the pain I had caused him.

"What the hell do you want?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"I need to talk to you," I said. "In private."

"Oh this has gotta be good," he muttered.  
"Just c'mon," I hissed at him.

I wanted to grab his hand and lead him away, but knew he wouldn't let me. So I just started walking and let him follow behind me. I wasn't sure where I was going actually. I was just looking for somewhere private. Bathroom, closet, anything. I eventually located a hallway that veered off of the main room and went down that way. The hallway was just like the main room; unusually large and extravagantly decorated.

"Where are you taking me?" Will demanded, irate.  
I didn't respond and continued my frantic search. I didn't have much time before August came looking for me. I kept checking doors but they kept leading to places that seemed less than suitable. Finally, I located a coat closet.

"Get in," I said, holding it open for Will.  
He stared at the closet for a moment. "Seriously?" he asked.

"Seriously," I urged.  
He sighed. "Fine, but remember that this was your idea."

He stepped inside the closet and I followed, closing the door behind us. Light streamed in from under the door but other than that it was pitch black. I could just barely see Will's face, right in front of mine. The closet wasn't large and expensive fur coats were pressing up against my back.

"So what is so damn important that _you_," he said, "Had to drag me away from free booze? Haven't you caused me enough pain?"  
"Yes," I admitted, "And that's why I'm doing this."

In the faint light, I could just barely see him furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
Instead of answering, I opened my mind out to him, attempting to create a link between our minds.

"What are you doing?" he asked skeptically.  
"Shut up," I hissed, trying to concentrate.

I tried to remember what Will had told me when he'd tried to teach me telepathy . . . _Expand your mind . . . _I closed my eyes and opened my mind. I tried to imagine my thoughts being barricaded behind a door, and then I tried to imagine that door flying open, sharing my thoughts with Will.

_Hone in on that person . . . ._Remembering Will's words I began to concentrate on him. I didn't need to open my eyes to see him. I knew every contour of his face by heart. I knew how his lips felt against mine and how his hands felt against my skin. I thought of his soft dark brown hair, but without the black tips. I imagined his hair with the rainbow tips, the way it should be. Colorful. Just like Will. I thought of his pearly, radiant skin and his imposing muscles. And I thought of his eyes. Those stormy grey eyes that looked the sky over the sea just before a storm. Turbulent and unpredictable, dangerous even, but beautiful. So beautiful . . .

_"Will . . ."_

_"Nettie?"__  
__"It feels so nice to hear him say that . . ." _I'd thought that, yet I'd just heard it clear as day. As if it had been spoken. Obviously Will heard it too.

_"Well I didn't actually say it," _he pointed out_, "I thought it. Of course you finally learn to use telepathy _after_ we break up."__  
__"Will there's something I need to tell you," _I thought.

_"I gathered that." _Somehow, even his mental voice managed to be snarky.  
_"There's so much I need to tell you . . . So much you don't know."_

And with that introduction, I opened up my mind. I allowed all of my memories over the last few weeks flood out of me and into Will. I showed him everything. I showed him the confrontation between August and I outside his hospital room, when August had threatened to kill Will if I didn't break up with him. I showed him that August was actually present during our breakup with a knife, forcing me to say horrible things to him to make him cry. I showed him my horrific meltdown after our breakup. I showed him a multitude of conversations with August and I showed him the night at Nightmare, when August had beat me up. And I showed him how I'd spied on him during his meltdown the other day. I showed him when I'd told Heather everything and when I was at her house and we discovered that the Augst we knew was an imposter.

And after the memories, I gave Will the feelings. The sadness, the guilt, the self-hate. But never hate for him. I shared with him my feelings of undying love for him. I let him know that through everything, I had always loved him. I let him know that I'd done I'd done to protect him.

By the end, I was crying. Sobbing actually. Against Will's chest. His arms were around me as I cried into his chest. I could feel Will's tears landing on my hair but they were much more infrequent than mine.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed miserably, "I'm so sorry. I-I never meant to hurt you. I . . . I just wanted to protect you. It seemed like the right thing to do . . . My head kept _telling_ me it was right. My brain just kept saying that I had to do this . . . But my heart. . . my heart kept saying that it was wrong. That _I_ was wrong without you."

"Without you," I went on, "Everything was wrong. I couldn't read or listen to music because every line and every lyric reminded me of you. Every time I drove by Hanley's or saw the tree that you first kissed me under I wanted to cry. I could barely stand Hollow Creek anymore. Everything reminded me of you. I wanted to get away. I just wanted to go somewhere where the pain couldn't touch me."

"But the idea of leaving was almost more painful than staying," I went on crying, "Because if I left Hollow Creek . . . How would I know if I would ever see you again? And the idea of never seeing you again . . . Never having you hold me or kiss me or make me laugh or tell me everything was going to be okay . . . That was a million times worse than seeing the hate in your eyes everyday."

"But still . . . It didn't make the pain go away. I felt so . . . guilty. I watched you everyday. Watched you smile less and less . . . Watch you scowl more and more. You never laughed unless you were high. And when you weren't high . . . you looked miserable. Angry and bitter. And all I could do was watch on helplessly as you got colder and colder everyday. And I wanted to kill myself for turning a great person like you into a bitter ice sculpture like me."

"And then the other day . . . When I saw you cry like that . . . When I heard how much pain you were in . . . I wanted to go to you and put my arms around you - to tell you the truth . . . To make you feel better. But my head, my head told me I couldn't. That I couldn't put you in danger like that. That it was selfish to endanger you like that. But my heart . . . It kept telling me to help you. And I kept telling it to shut up."

"And then today . . . I saw that look in your eyes. You looked so . . . miserable. You looked at me like I was the corpse of the love of your life. And I just couldn't stand to see you in pain anymore. I stopped caring about August and his threats . . . All I cared about was you. . .All I care about is you."

I looked up at him then. He'd been silent this whole time. Tears streaked his cheeks but he was smiling. "All I care about is you," he finally said, "I don't care if August kills me. As long as I die knowing that you loved me . . . Then I'll die happy. . ."

The tears began falling harder from my eyes as I realized that August could very well find out about this and kill Will. My throat felt raw and sore and I felt like I was going to throw up. The tears were falling so hard and so fast that I could barely catch my breath.

"Knowing is enough," Will went on, "But . . . It'd be nice to hear you say it . . . Just once . . . Before I die."  
"I love you," I managed through my tears.

"I love you too," he said, holding me closer.  
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed.

"Don't be," he said, petting my hair.  
"This is all my fault," I disagreed, "If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened. Your life wouldn't be in danger."

He put a hand under my chin and forced me to look up. I could barely see his face in the darkness but I could see the tears that streaked his cheeks, illuminated in the faint light. "If it wasn't for you Nettie, my life wouldn't matter," he said, "Not to me anyway. I told you already. All I care about is you. Without you, my life isn't worth living."

"Yes it would be," I disagreed, "So many people love you Will."  
"Those people aren't you," he said.

The tears starting falling even harder as I realized how much Will loved me. I was the most important thing to him. I wasn't the most important thing in the world to anybody before. Even my own mother had better things to do than spend time with me. Will was the only person who really loved me. And I might not have been the only person who loved Will, but I sure as hell loved him th most.

"You can't die," I sobbed, "I - I won't let you. If August tries to kill you I'll threaten to kill myself. And if kills you anyway, I will kill myself."  
"Nettie," he said, his voice very serious, "You can't do that."

"Yes I can," I said fiercely, "I can't live in a world without you. I have _nothing_ else. You're my life Will."  
"Nettie, please, if you love me, you won't do that," he pleaded.

"If you love me you'll understand why I would have to do that," I argued, "You're my other half Will. If you're dead, I'm half dead anyway. And the pain . . . The pain of living in a world without you would be so unbearable . . . You wouldn't want me to be in that much pain."

"I - I wouldn't," he struggled, "But Nettie - the thought of you dead . . . Even if I'm already dead, it's just . . . it's awful."  
"How do you think I feel?" I demanded, "I mean, you're the one who's life is in danger."

"Then . . . then I guess we have to do something," he decided.  
"We have to get the spirit out of August," I said.

"If we wound him badly enough maybe the spirit will leave his body," Will offered.  
"That might work," I said, "But if it doesn't . . . I'm prepared to kill the real August to get rid of the fake one. I don't want to, but I will, if I have to."

Will nodded. "I'll do anything to be with you again," he said solemnly.  
I nodded in agreement, more tears forming in my eyes. "I'll do anything to make you safe," I agreed.

"I love you Nettie," he said, his grip around me tightening, "More than anything. Before I met you . . . I didn't even know it was possible to love someone so much that you'd not only die for them, but that you'd die with a smile on your face because at least you got to love her, even if it was just for a little while. I love you Nettie."

"I love you too Will," I sobbed, "And I swear, I'm not going to let _him_ tear us apart. Not again."  
"Never," Will promised, as the door suddenly opened, filling the closet with light.

"So this is where the lovebirds have made their nest?" August asked with a sinister smirk on his lips.

* * *

**I know, I know, I know. I'm a horrible person for making you wait this long. I'm sorry. I had writer's block. I blame summer. But I'm back now and more pumped than ever to write! Hope you liked this chapter - I made it super long because I felt bad for not updating and I made Will and Nettie get back together so . . .No complaining about me taking forever, okay? But still review anyway! Oh, and check out my new story Get Bitten. It'll be a while before the next chapter of She Hates You is up. Not as long as last time though, I swear. Maybe a week. It's going to be an intense chapter so give me a little time. Anyway, thanks to all of you for sticking with me through the writer's block. I love you all! And please review! :D**


	45. Angelic Girl

**Angelic Girl**

August was standing there, arms crossed neatly over his chest. The suit he was wearing looked exactly like the one he'd been wearing before, but I felt as if he had changed it, due to the fact that there were no remnants of wine anywhere on it. The smirk on his lips gave off the impression that he was amused, but his eyes made it clear he was anything but. Their emerald green depths were overflowing with hate and sinister plans.

Upon seeing the look in his eyes, I immediately threw myself in front of Will, pushing him deeper into the closet. I knew that it was empty gesture; I could hardly protect Will from August this way. But it was reflex. I knew August would never kill me. He was convinced he loved me. He may beat me into a bloody pulp, but he would never kill me. He'd gladly kill Will.

"August, don't," I half begged, half warned.  
"Do what love?" he asked, that insufferable smirk still plastered on his lips.

"You know what," I growled. I could hear Will moving behind me, stepping to the side so he could get around me. But I moved in front of him, blocking his path, protecting him. He obviously didn't like that idea; I could hear him growling under his breath from behind me. I didn't care. I didn't want him anywhere near August.

August was lazily adjusting his cuff links though with that same smirk still on his lips. His eyes flickered up to me briefly. It was too quick a look for me to read the emotions in his eyes, but I could've sworn to God that his eyes were glowing green. They'd always been bright, his eyes, but they'd never glowed up until now.

"How about we take this conversation somewhere more private, hmm?" he said. His tone was perfectly polite, but it was obvious that it wasn't a request. I looked back at Will over my shoulder. He didn't look happy, but he didn't look scared. He seemed . . . cautious. Like he was trying to remain coherent so he could get a handle on the situation. He nodded slightly at me.

"Okay," I said. I wanted to reach back for Will's hand as we exited the closet, but I knew it would only upset August further. I stepped out of the coat closet and into the empty hallway, with Will following. The cavernous, cheery, well decorated and well lit hallway was empty, but the sounds of the party floated in front the entrance way. August began walking in the opposite direction.

"Come along," he said. We followed in step behind me, walking side by side. August had his hands clasped behind his back as he walked with long, efficient strides. He didn't look back, not even once, as he led us down the hallway, towards a winding staircase. Will and I exchanged glances. It was obvious we were thinking the same thing; by going upstairs we were getting dangerously far away from other people.

But, it wasn't like we had much of a choice. Obediently, we followed August up the staircase, down another hallway, and up another staircase. All without August looking back at us, not even once, or saying a single word. I almost wished he would say something, to give me some indication of what he was planning to do. This unsureness was stifling.

He paused outside a door before opening it, and then held it open for us by leaning against it. "After you," he said politely, smiling a sinisterly welcoming smile. It made it clear that, wherever he was welcoming us to, we didn't want to go.

I let Will go first, so I could provide a barrier between him and August as we stepped inside. I had a feeling the only reason Will went first was so he could protect me from whatever was inside. Ironically enough,_ I_ was trying to protect _him_ from what had led us to this room.

The room was, in a word, creepy. It was the kind of place where I could imagine bad things happening. No, it didn't look like a dominatrix's sex dungeon or a executioner's torture chamber or anything like that. No; it didn't have stone walls or concrete floors. It didn't have whips and maces hanging from the walls either, and there were no benches where you could spank someone or murder them present. There was nothing like that. Actually, the room was creepy _because_ there was nothing like that in there.

The room was just very . . . empty. Suspiciously so. And unsettling normal looking. The walls were painted navy blue, the floors covered in shiny hardwood. Across from us there was a set of double doors that looked like a closet, or at least, looked like it was intended to be used as a closet by whomever designed the house. I imagined that August didn't keep normal things in there, if he even used it as a closet.

There were no windows in the room and furniture was scant. The few pieces of furniture though weren't threatening or frightening by themselves . . . It was their peculiar placement that made me nervous. There was a large arm chair against every wall, all of them very old fashioned looking and an unthreatening, light blue color. In the middle of the room though, there was a single wooden chair, facing away from us.

Altogether, the room was unsettling, because it was clearly designed for something out of the ordinary. I almost wished he had brought us to a torture chamber sex dungeon. Almost.

I heard the door click shut behind me and heard a dead bolt sliding shut. That made me cringe. Who the hell had deadbolts on doors inside their house? Obviously, if he had had those installed ahead of time then this room was intended for things he didn't want outsiders walking in on.

"Now Amunet," he said, his voice coming from behind me making my stomach do flips, "Am I to understand that you broke our agreement?"  
I turned around to face him, keeping my face stoic and setting my jaw. "Yes," I said, "And I'm not sorry."

"Really? You might want to reconsider that," he said, tilting his head to the side and stepping closer.  
"My answer will be the same," I said sternly, "I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry for undoing the horrible things you made me do."

I heard Will make a noise behind. It was faint, and sounded vaguely like a short whimper. He was obviously thinking of the 'horrible things' August had made me do. I wish I could tell him not to let his imagination run away from him, but I was a little busy at the moment.

"Aw, trust me Amunet," August said, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "The worst is yet to come."  
I did _not _like the sound of that. And neither did Will it seemed, because he suddenly came out from my shadow to stand next to me, but slightly closer to August.

"What the hell do you want from us you sick fuck?" he demanded.  
"Oh, he speaks," August said coolly.

Will growled. "Why are you doing all this?" Will went on. I knew he wasn't just talking about today; he meant everything.  
"Hmmm . . . I suppose I could tell you. No use keeping up the facade any longer," he mused but then stopped talking, and began casually adjusting his cuff links.

"Well?" Will prompted irately after a prolonged silence.  
"It's simple really," August said, still adjusting his cuffs, "As I'm sure you already know, I am not a human, nor am I a psychic vampire."

"Nor are you August Bronze," I added, my voice a hiss.  
He met my eyes briefly. His glowed the bright green of radioactive waste. "Nor am I August Bronze," he agreed, nodding, "Not really anyway."

"Then who are you?" I demanded, "Really."  
"Me? I am Azazel," he announced proudly as if it was an honorable title.

"Azazel?" I repeated, looking at him. It was hard for me to think of him as anybody but August, but at the same time, this name seemed appropriate. It was darker, creepier, more sinister. It suited him well.

"Okay _Azazel_," Will said, managing to sound composed but angry at the same time, "Why are you doing this?"  
"Well you see," August, well Azazel, said carefully. "I am not . . . exactly . . . a person."

"No shit," I said bluntly. He was more demon than man all along after all.  
"Alright, then what are you?" Will asked.

"It's rather difficult to explain," he said coolly, "So do try to keep up with me. You see, I am an incorporeal being."  
Now I was an intelligent person, but I still wasn't sure exactly what that meant. "A what?" I demanded.

"A being that can exist without a body," he explained, drifting further into the room. He was no longer blocking the door but neither Will or I made any move towards it. There wasn't a doubt in our minds that he could easily stop us and maim us if we tried to escape. "Most humans are familiar with a few kinds of incorporeal beings. Ghosts, wraiths, poltergeists. They're all very important to human culture; religion and such. And they are horribly exploited by the media. Ghost stories and horror films and things of that nature. . . So much hype over beings that really don't care to bother with humans very much. They were once humans themselves after all, and they have no use for the living. Except maybe for the occasional amusement I suppose. No . . . Ghosts and such are not nearly as interested in humans as my kind."

I wasn't so much unsettled by the apparent existence of ghosts, I was unsettled by his conviction in their existence. The way he spoke as if he was speaking for _them_. As if he'd had personal, actual encounters with these beings.

"And what is your kind," Will prompted, "Exactly." He seemed much less frazzled than I felt. Then again, Will had always been good with keeping up pretenses. He was staring at August (I mean Azazel) with heat and concentration as he made his way over to the large arm chair on the left. He sat down, looking completely at ease, as he rested his foot on the knee of his other leg. His expression gave off the impression that he was awaiting something pleasant. His bright green eyes were full of anticipation.

"My kind? Why, we're Shadow People of course," he said, "And before you can ask what Shadow People are, allow me to explain a little. Shadow People are like ghosts . . . In the way that we are incorporeal and can exist without a physical body. However, we are unlike ghosts, seeing as we were never people to begin with. Some cultures believe we were, but they are wrong."

"Shadow People are entities of darkness. Not physical darkness so much as the darkness that thrives inside of human beings. Every time a human begin purposely ends another human life; the darkness inside of them is released into the universe. In the form of a Shadow Being. This new shadow creature is gifted with extraordinary powers and the memories of the human whose sins created them. Though, do keep in mind, a Shadow Person is a separate being from said human. They just have a connection. You two keeping up with me?"

Unfortunately yes. This was all very . . . Fabulously horrible. Strange and fantastically impossible. Supernatural. But I understood. I nodded and glanced at Will. He looked like he was thinking very hard about something. His full lips were pressed together and his brows were furrowed. I felt the urge to close the two foot space between us and smooth out the furrowed area between his eyes, hold his hand, and stand strong. But I felt like that would do us no good.

Will saw my glance and then suddenly I heard his voice in my head. _"Why is he telling us all of this now?"_ he asked telepathically.  
I thought about it for a second, considering everything. I thought of Aug - Azazel's anticipating expression.

_"Because it's all coming together now. Whatever he's been working towards all this time - it's about to happen," _I thought towards him. _  
__"Shit," _was all he sent back. I couldn't help but share his concerns.

"Good, good," Azazel said, "Now, although Shadow People are extremely powerful, what with our many affinities, we do have one weakness. As I've explained, we have no physical body. And as you can imagine, that's no fun at all. Luckily we have the ability to possess other beings. But we cannot inhabit the bodies of humans - we are entities of darkness and humans already contain too much darkness as it is. So, we need to find a place where our darkness can thrive. Now Amunet, you're an intelligent girl, tell me; where is the darkest dark located."

I swallowed. "Behind the brightest light," I said immediately.  
"Correct," he praised, "So, wouldn't it make sense that the darkest being thrive behind the mask of the lightest ones? A being full of light has more room in it for darkness after all. Yes?"

"In theory," I said, trying to manage a bit of cynicism despite the circumstances.  
"And in practice. . . So, with that knowledge, can you guess what creature a Shadow Person can possess?" he asked.

"A psychic vampire," Will blurted out before I could even think.  
Azazel nodded. "Very good William," he said, "Now, did you know that or did you just guessed?"

"It's obvious," he said, raising his head slightly, his voice snappish and defiant, "If your darkness than we must be light. Because we're nothing like you."  
"Well, I can't disagree with you there William," Azazel said, running a hand through his blonde curls. The motion seemed contrastingly mundane considering the topic of discussion. He even checked his watch. "Anyway, yes, the only creature a Shadow Person can possess is a 'psychic vampire.' My I despise that term. It's one of those titles conjured up by human scientists who think they can reason out things beyond their control. It's disgustingly fake. You are not 'psychic vampires' you're Blood Angels. Descendants of vampiric angels."

That part was like cold water being poured over my head. This whole conversation had been unsettling for me. I'd been okay with the psychic vampire thing - it had been like science. It had been rational. It had made sense. This whole Shadow People nonsense had been less than comforting. Especially with the bit about ghosts. That had rattled me a bit but since it hadn't been directly about me, I'd been okay. But now he was telling me I was an angel? Something I didn't even believe existed. That was rather unsettling and disorienting.

"Okay," I said, laughing once in scoffing, semi-hysterical manner, "Now you've lost me. _Angels?_ I can handle ghosts and Shadow People but _angels_? Seriously?"  
"I'm not here to argue theology with you," he said lazily, "Angels are creatures of light. Whether or not you believe they are messengers of God is your business."

"Angels though," I scoffed, still chuckling. My laughter sounded hollow and manic. "Like with the wings and the halos and all that shit?"  
"Well they don't have wings or halos," he said mildly.

"Still," I ranted on, "I can't be an _angel._ There's nothing angelic about me! I don't even go to Church! And I'm pretty sure there's only one commandment I haven't broken! Unless of course squashing bugs counts as killing."

_"You're hysterical," _Will sent me, giving me a look, _"Calm down." _I didn't respond.  
"You're not actual angels," Azazel explained, "You're Blood Angels. Descendants of Angels. You carry their light in your blood."

"If Angels are creatures of light," Will said, accepting this more easily than me obviously, "Why can't you possess them?"  
"They contain solely light. But Blood Angels have just enough darkness in them to exploit," he explained, "You see, Blood Angels are the descendants of angels who mated with humans. The powerful light in the blood skips generations. Often many, many generations. But will eventually show itself in some descendants. These descendants with active angel blood, are called Blood Angels, for obvious reasons. Or 'psychic vampires' as you like to call yourselves."

All I could think was that, if there was any of this angel blood in me, it had certainly not come from my mother's side.

"So you've explained how our two species exist," Will said, "But you still haven't explained why you're doing all this."  
"Ah yes," Azazel said, "I was getting to that. I thought it was important for you to know the backstory first . . . You see children, you two aren't like most Blood Angels. You're a part of a special sect of Blood Angels. You see, one of you has a parent who has killed before, and the other one has a parent who has saved an innocent life. One of you is an Umbra Angel, a darker type of Blood Angel. And the other is a Luma Angel - a lighter type of Blood Angel."

As disturbing as I found all this, I couldn't help but think I was the Umbra Angel. I didn't know my father; it was very possible that he was a murderer. And Will . . . Well his dad might have been an abusive asshole but Will would've known if he was a murderer. Mind reading and such. Not to mention, if anybody was angelic around here, it was Will. He may have done a lot of bad things in his life, but I'd always had confidence that he was pure at heart.

"So?" I demanded of Azazel.  
"So that makes you each unique. An angel of light and an angel of darkness. Umbra Angels and Luma Angels are extremely powerful. There are myths and tales of them throughout human history. Now, they're most powerful when they're in love . . . And an Umbra and a Luma Angel in love with _each other_? That's unheard of. Their power would be incomparable by any old Blood Angel. And not only that . . . There have been myths throughout the Shadow World that if an Umbra and a Luma Angel are in love and you mix their blood during a ritual known as a Shadow Ceremony which takes place during a full moan, the mixed blood could be used to give a Shadow Person a physical body. If they drank it the body of the Blood Angel they possess would become fully theirs. You see, we can only inhabit a Blood Angel so long before all their light starts to build up inside of them over months, eventually expelling us. But it's said if you drink the mixed blood of an Umbra and Luma Angel who are in love, the body you are in will become uniquely yours, immortal, never changing, and much more powerful."

I didn't even know what to think about that, except . . .  
"Wait a minute," Will said, mirroring my thoughts, "If our blood is only useful because we're in love . . . Then why did you try to tear us a apart?"

"It was a test," he said with a shrug, "To see if you were really in love. The Shadow Ceremony is very long and complicated. We needed to be sure you were truly in love before we tried it."

"Wait - we?" I asked.  
"Of course, you didn't think I did all this by myself, did you?" he asked, smiling patronizingly. I could have sworn his eyes were glowing brighter every second.

"We hoped," I muttered.  
"Well your hopes died," Azazel said pleasantly.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I scoffed. Will gave me a look. A look that suggested I should really shut up. I didn't care. I was feeling really freaked out. Rattled, shaken, unsettled. All of this information was just too much for me to handle at once. I felt like I was one blow away from toppling over.

And that's when I realized why Azazel had told us all of this. At first I thought it was just what villains did after they captured you - bragged. But then I realized that wasn't the case. He'd told us all of this to get us all rattled and unstable. He knew that if he freaked us out enough we wouldn't think as clearly and would be easier to handle. Well now that I knew what he was trying to I felt my anger reignited, and the anger helped clear my head.

I was going to kill this motherfucker.

"You never loved me," I said out loud, my voice an accusatory growl, "You said that you loved me but you didn't."  
He didn't look fazed. He even shrugged. "Another test, _princess_. I had to make sure you were in love with William, not just in love with the idea of being in love."

That son of a bitch . . .

"Well how come you didn't test Will?" I demanded.  
Azazel smirked. "Oh, we did," he said, once again speaking in the plural.

And then there was a rattling sound. Will and I both turned simultaneously to look at the door where the deadbolt was wiggling free of the metal hole. Will and I shared a look; neither of us was doing that.

And then the door opened to reveal two people standing in the doorway. One was Marshal. I wasn't that surprised to see him there. I'd suspected that whatever 'August' was, Marshal was too. It had been a given. The other person though . . . Well that was more of a shock than a given.

"Little Lyn?" Will chocked out.

That little whore was standing there next to Marshal, dwarfed by him but appearing confident anyway. She didn't look scared in the slightest. She was obviously here of her own free will, unlike us. At first I couldn't figure out what she could possibly doing here, but then I looked past her insane eye makeup and realized her eyes were a luminous, emerald green. Just like Marshal's and Azazel's.

"Billy," she sneered sweetly, smiling sinisterly.  
"Little Lyn you're -" Will stammered. For the first time since the beginning of all this, he seemed startled.

"A Shadow Woman?" she asked haughtily, stepping into the room, "Why yes, yes I am."  
"But we -" he began. His voice and face portrayed shock and betrayal. I wanted to hold him.

"Had sex?" she finished for him, smirking. "I'm aware."  
"I - I was going to say we were friends," he said in a small voice, the kind of voice that made him seem like he was going to cry. Although his eyes looked dry to me.

Little Lyn laughed. Despite the fact that she was the shortest person in the room. I felt like I was looking up at her. "You are cute Will, I'll give you that. And great in bed - even with two tabs of ecstasy in your system."

"_If_ you're done now ," Marshal spoke up for the first time, addressing Little Lyn. His tone was sharp. Little Lyn went silent, but the sneer never left her lips. I glared back at her, showing my teeth a little in a way that was certainly not a smile.

"Azazel," Marshal said, "I take it you explained the situation to them."  
"I certainly did," he said smugly.

"Excellent," he said, sliding the dead bolt back in place, "Then let's begin the ceremony."


	46. Tormented Girl

**Tormented Girl**

"You needn't be afraid," Marshal said, walking deeper into the room, "We're not going to kill you. The ceremony doesn't require that. Some Shadow People might dispose of you afterward anyway, but not us. We're smarter than that. We know that you're much more useful to us alive. Even after we've benefited from your blood, we can benefit from other's desire for said blood. There are other Shadow People out there who would pay handsomely for the chance to have their own bodies. So, by keeping you alive, we can allow other Shadow People to perform the ceremony with you every full moon, for a price. . . I'd say everybody wins . . . but in truth, we just win twice."

"So you're just going to keep us prisoner?" Will demanded, his voice full of anger and heat. He was turning his body in time with Marshal's movement, so that he never had his back turned to him. It was obvious that Will had deemed Marshal as the biggest threat. I couldn't imagine why. He'd never even met Marshal as far as I knew.

"Assuming you're not going to stay willingly," he said coolly.  
"We're not," I snarled, letting my eyes dart to the door. That succubus Little Lyn was blocking it though, her bright lips spread into a hateful sneer as she looked at me.

"Then yes, we'll be keeping you as prisoners," Marshal said. "Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's begin. It's going to be a long night."  
I believed him. It couldn't be later than ten thirty and it seemed like years ago that I was downstairs in that ballroom, mingling with Australian people and sipping expensive wine.

"Jezebeth," he went on, "If you'll take William here into the back room to prepare him."  
"Of course," Little Lyn, or well Jezebeth, thrummed smugly, "Come along now Billy."

Will shook his head no. "I'm not leaving Amunet."  
"Relax Romeo," Azazel sighed in lazy annoyance, "Your little Juliet is safe with us. Well safe enough anyway."

"Yes," Jezebeth purred, holding out her hand to Will and curling her fingers towards herself, "Now come along Will, let's get you ready for tonight's festivities."  
He swallowed hard and glanced at me. His fists were clenched at his side and his jaw was set, indicating that he had no intentions of going anywhere. I saw this, but that didn't stop me from giving him a look that clearly said _"go I'll be fine." _If he started fighting them this early on, we'd just get abused that much sooner. We had to comply until it was no longer possible. Besides, there was no point fighting over this; him being here was not going to protect me these people.

He sighed, seeing the look in my eyes. He growled low in the back of his throat, an irritated sound, before stepping forward once without a word.  
"That a boy," Jezebeth said, smiling. She took his wrist, not his hand, and led him into that room in the back, the one I believed to be a closet. Obviously it wasn't.

I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out as Will disappeared into that room. I may have encouraged him to go, for his own safety, but it still hurt to have him out of my sight at a time like this. The promise of danger hung in the air, and it made me nervous to know he wasn't here to protect me, and vice versa.

"Now Azazel, how about you prepare your little princess for the ceremony," Marshall suggested.  
Azazel snorted and remained lounging in his chair. "Please, she's hardly _my_ princess," he scoffed, "Or a princess at all really."

"Just get her ready," Marshal snapped.  
"Why don't you," he retorted, putting his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out lazily.

"Azazel," Marshal said, his commanding voice like the snap of a whip as he sat down in the largest of the arm chairs.  
"Fine," he sighed, pulling himself out of his chair and strolling towards me. I backed away instinctively, my steps in time with his.

"There's no use trying to get away Amunet," he informed me, his voice more matter-of-fact than threatening.  
My back hit the wall and I realized he was right. There was no use resisting before he even hurt me. I stood still with my back against the wall when he reached me. I don't know what I was expecting, but I certainly wasn't expecting him to rip my skirt off. In one fluid motion he had reached out and tore my dress in half. What had once been a floor length gown was now a skimpy little thing that barely covered anything. I was scandalized.

"Don't think I'm doing this for my own pleasure Amunet," he said upon seeing my face, "The long skirt would only get in the way. Plus, we'll need something to sop up all the blood." Just what I wanted to hear.

"Well that makes me feel all better," I said sarcastically.  
Azazel smirked. It was almost an indulgent expression. "I've nearly become accustomed to your quirkiness these last few weeks. It's almost endearing."

"Ironic. Seeing as I've only come to hate you more as of late," I hissed.  
He just smiled smugly as he reached out and ripped my necklace clean off me, throwing it to the side, where it skidded against the floor.

"That'll get in the way too," he said, reaching into his pocket, "So will your hair." In his hand he held a small pair of scissors.  
"You're not cutting my hair," I said, wishing there wasn't a wall behind me so I could back away.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to cut it all off," he soothed, grinning as he grabbed my arm and spun me around quickly, shoving my face into the wall. I struggled but it did me no good. I could feel him sweeping my hair together and then cutting it all off at once. He released my hair and I could feel it fall back around my shoulders. It just barely cleared them now. I was pissed, but really, loosing six inches of hair didn't really compare to what I knew awaited me.

I turned back around to see Azazel tying the long lock of my hair together in a knot before putting it in his pocket. My initial reaction was disgust but I had a feeling it would have some significance during the ritual.

He then extracted from his pocket a small ornate box. When he opened it I smelled a familiar metalicy odor. I didn't even have to peer into the container to know it contained blood. The smell made it clear. My stomach rolled.

I assumed my expression conveyed my nausea because he said, "I hope blood doesn't make you queasy. You'll be seeing a lot more of it tonight." I didn't say anything as he dipped two fingers into the container and then reached out with his bloody fingers to write on my face. I wanted to protest and fight, but I knew it was not wise. The worse was yet to come, and I had to save my strength.

I had no idea what he was writing in blood on my cheeks and I didn't want to. He dipped his fingers in the blood again and wrote something on my chest where my necklace once hung. I didn't even look down to try and see.

Then, after reapplying the blood to my fingers, he encircled each of my wrists in it and my throat. The smell of the blood on me was filling my head and making me sick to my stomach. I didn't even want to think about whose blood this was or why I was being panted with it.

Azazel smiled at me before finally putting the container back in his pocket. He exchanged it for a handful of startlingly white feathers. In the back of my head, I thought of how Azazel's suit pockets were like Marry Poppins' bag- the one she'd pulled a lamp out of, or something. I couldn't remember and wasn't sure why it was important that I did.

He began intertwining the feathers into my hair then. I watched, noting how white they were. Startlingly so. They seemed to glow with their pureness and cleanliness. They just appeared to be utterly untouched by all the bad and filth in the world. I distantly thought of how I wished I could be that pure and untouched. But I knew it was a pointless desire. I'd been touched by darkness so many times I found it hard to believe there was any light left in me at all.

"All done," Azazel said; the volume of his voice suggesting he was speaking to Marshal and not me.  
"Perfect now if Jezebeth would . . ." he trailed off just as she reappeared out of that room, with Will following close behind her.

He looked similar to how I must have looked. He was missing his jacket and tie and he had the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbow. His collar was undone, unbuttoned to reveal just the top of his chest, where a symbol was painted in blood. It looked like hieroglyphics sort of. He had similar blood markings on his cheeks too. Each of the symbols looked completely different though. They were so elaborate and foreign that I couldn't even describe them to myself. I wondered if the symbols painted on me were the same. His wrists and neck were encircled in blood just like mine and he had feathers in his hair as well. Only they were black and small, whereas mine had been large and distinctly white. His expression showed that he was examining me as well.

"Speak of the devil," Marshal said.  
"And the devil shall appear," Jezebeth finished, smiling widely.

I couldn't help but think of the irony of those statements.

"Now that everything's in order, let's begin," Marshal said, gesturing to the chair in the middle of the room, "Amunet take a seat."  
I glanced nervously at Will. I could tell by his expression that he was thinking of escape routes. He saw me looking at him and nodded, silently telling me to keep going along with it and bide us some more time.

Slowly I made my way over to the chair in the center of the room and sat down. The chair was facing Marshal's large armchair and he was staring at me with a friendly smirk on his face that made my skin crawl. I looked away, letting my hair cover my face.

"Azazel, Jezebeth," he said, "Come take a seat." They both did, as situating themselves in the remaining arm chairs on either side of me. Will stayed standing but I noticed him discreetly backing up against the door that led to the backroom. He was obviously trying to stay out of everyone's direct line of vision. I couldn't help but wonder why. Maybe he had something planned. I hoped so.

"You have the sacrificial knife don't you Jezebeth?" Marshal checked.  
"Right here Apollyon," she chirped, pulling out a wicked looking blade. It looked freakishly familiar. I thought back to the day I broke up with Will. Azazel had been holding that same knife.

"Give it to me then," Marshal, or _Apollyon_, said, gesturing towards himself.  
Jezebeth got up and handed it to him, giving me a sinisterly sweet smile as she did so before flouncing back to her chair and daintily taking a seat.

"Thank you," Apollyon said, standing up and walking over to me. I stared up at him and he looked down at me, the knife glittering in his hand. Fear filled my mind and my eyes flashed over to Will. He had gone completely still, his wide eyes on Apollyon's knife. He looked ready to spring at any moment.

"Don't fret Amunet," Apollyon soothed, "It's all going to be okay. I promised I wouldn't kill ya, didn't I?"  
Somehow that wasn't exactly comforting.

"Now just still and it'll all be over soon," he promised, lowering the knife towards me.  
I heard a faint creaking sound as Will took a step forward. "I suggest you do the same William," Apollyon said to him without looking at him, "For her, and your, own safety."

Will backed off, but I knew he wasn't happy about it. "That a boy," Apollyon praised as he lowered the knife closer to me. With his other hand he picked up my wrist and began to slice it with the knife. He did it in such a careful way that I knew he knew how to do it without cutting an artery. I hardly cared about that though. It fucking hurt. Red hot pain flared up where the blade touched. I swallowed a scream, literally. It psychically hurt not to scream but I refused to. I steeled myself and bit my lip, making a small, short whimpering sounds.

After cutting a decent sized gash on my one wrist he moved on to the next. The second time hurt just as much as the first. Possibly more, because I was already dealing with the pain from the first one. I tried to keep from screaming and ended up making a broken sobbing sound. God it hurt so fucking much. Tears began to well in my eyes, threatening to overflow.

And then he moved the knife upward and cut a line under my chin. I could no longer keep the screams inside. I wailed loudly once, a high pitched, tortured sounding scream that soon faded into a bunch of sobs. I was crying openly now, the tears streaming down my blood painted cheeks. The pain was too much. I wasn't used to this.

I blinked through my tears and saw Apollyon smiling at me. I sniffed some as he began smearing the blood on my first wrist with his free hand, mixing it with the blood that Azazel had traced around my wrist. Whenever Apollyon's fingers grazed the gash on my wrist I screamed. As if it didn't hurt enough. He smeared the mixed blood all up the inside of my arm before repeating the process on my next wrist. It was every bit as painful.

Then he moved up to my next. Mixing the blood that had dripped from under my chin with the blood Azazel had put there. This didn't hurt as much because he wasn't touching the wound. But of course, there was still the pain from the wounds when they weren't aggravated. They were still bleeding and the pain was still fresh and sharp. Sharp enough to keep me crying. I was quiet now though. No longer sobbing or screaming. Just silently crying.

I felt cool fingers on my cheeks and realized Apollyon was mixing my tears with the bloody marks Azazel had put there. "Alright," he said when he was done, "William's turn." He grabbed me by my bloody, ragged wrists and I screamed as he pulled me to my feet. The scream died as I tried to steady myself. Even with Apollyon holding on to me I felt faint. The floor was moving under me and I was sure I would collapse.

I looked over to Will, wondering why I didn't once hear him yelling for me or trying to come save me. It made more tears come to my eyes to think that he had abandoned me, just left me to bleed and scream. He hadn't even _tried _to help me. Didn't he care about me? Hadn't it _killed_ him to see me like that?

When my blurry eyes found him I realized that it had. He was tucked away in the corner, his back to me. His shoulders were tense and his head was down. Obviously he'd been unable to bear and watch me be tortured. He'd had to look away. This made me feel a tiny bit better, knowing that he cared. It wasn't his fault that trying to save me would have gotten him nowhere.

He faded out of focus as my vision faltered. I felt Apollyon pulling me forward by my wrists, causing sharper pain to flare up in them. He took me a few steps away from the chair before releasing me and letting me collapse in on my self. I landed on my butt, my legs laid flat next to me, my knees bent. I lowered my head as I attempted to get a hold of myself. My breathing was ragged and my eyesight was blurry. I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. I concentrated solely on my breathing and when I opened my eyes I felt a little better. My wrists and the underside of my jaw were still radiating pain but I could see now and breathe as well.

Remaining on the ground, I turned around so that I was facing the others. Jezebeth and Azazel were still sitting, looking pleased and excited. Apollyon was over by Will, who was still facing the wall. He roughly grabbed him by the shoulder to turn him around. His face was relatively composed. He wasn't crying and his expression was remote, but his eyes conveyed that hearing my wailing had tortured him. Those pained eyes glanced in my direction but he quickly looked away.

"Come alone William," Apollyon snarled sweetly, "It's your turn."  
Head held high Will came over to the chair I'd previously been occupying. He was facing me now but he wouldn't look at me. Apollyon came between us, blocking my view of Will. Feeling scared for him I dragged myself across the floor to the side so I could see Will better. Nobody seemed to care what I was doing.

I could see the glimmer of Apollyon's knife, the blade stained with my blood. He brought it down on Will's wrist and I let out a small cry of pain. It hurt to see him getting hurt. I understood then exactly why Will had looked away during my turn. I couldn't look at the blood welling up on his wrist any longer so I looked up at his face. It was blank . . . Utterly blank. His expression conveyed no pain and his eyes contained no tears.

Even as Apollyon moved on to his other wrist Will's face remained stoic. No sounds of pain escaped his lips; no whines or whimpers or screams. I tried to think of why and realized quickly that Will had a much higher threshold for pain than I did. He was used to it, having been abused by his dad and step brothers for all those years. He was a master at hiding pain and suffering in silence. It made me feel even worse, knowing that what I considered agony he considered common place. It was sickening to think that he was so used to pain.

When Apollyon brought the knife up to his throat, Will complacently tilted his head back, allowing Apollyon greater access to the underside of his jaw. He made the cut and the blood began to drip down Will's throat, streaking through the ring of blood Jezebeth had painted on him earlier.

Will lowered his head, and still his face showed nothing, even as Apollyon began to smear the blood on his wrist with the blood Jezebeth had put there. He then spread the blood from his neck with the blood there before pausing, and then taking a slight step back. He placed his hand, stained with Will's and my blood, on his chin in a classic thinking pose.

"Hmmm, you're not crying," he said thoughtfully, "That won't do at all. Your tears are an important aspect of this part of the ritual. You see, I need to mix it with those blood ciphers written on your cheeks. Usually the slicing of the wrists is enough to drive a Blood Angel to tears, unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case with you, does it? You're just too used to pain, isn't that right William? Hmm it'll be a challenge to make you cry, won't it Little Blood Angel?"

Will said nothing and refused to meet Apollyon's eyes. He looked over his shoulder at the door in an expectant manner. I couldn't help but wonder why. He quickly looked back though and then turned his gaze on me. I must have looked gruesome because he quickly looked away, down at the floor.

Apollyon's bloody hand shot out and grabbed Will by the hair, forcing him to meet his eyes. Will complied and met Apollyon's gaze head on, his eyes blank and challenging. As if to say _'I dare you to try and make me cry.'_

Apollyon didn't show any outward signs of being angered by Will's insolence but based on the way he brutally struck out at Will, I assumed he was angered. He sliced Will's face, not his cheek but the side of his face. Will hissed in pain and turned to the side reflexively. My chest tightened, seeing him get hurt like this while i watched on helplessly, a faint whimpering sound escaping my lips.

I wasn't sure how Will was handling it though. His face was turned to the side with his overgrown, feather studded hair falling in his eyes. After a brief moment though, he lifted his head, slowly. The cut Apollyon had created started at the corner of Will's eyes, and extended down in a curving claw-like shape, all the way down so that it ended just above his jaw. Blood was pouring out of it, dripping off the edge of his chin. But still, Will wasn't crying, nor did he look like he was going to any time soon. He still looked simply insolent and challenging. He glared up at Apollyon with a bold, insubordinate look.

"Wow, you're a hard egg to crack aren't you Mr. Sharp?" Apollyon said. He lowered the knife again, but this time, slowly. Will didn't move a muscle as Apollyon began to cut from one end of the underside of Will's jaw, to the other, just below where he'd done it before. Will had his lips pressed together tightly and I didn't think he was even breathing; obviously the pain was starting to get too intense for him. Blood was dripping down Will's neck, overlapping the drying blood there.

"C'mon Little Blood Angel," Apollyon pretended to pout, "Cry for me."  
"Go on Billy," Jezebeth coaxed from the sidelines, speaking for the first time in a while, "Just cry. Don't make him hurt you anymore."

It unsettled me to realize that Jezebeth did actually care about Will's wellbeing - well to a point she did.

Will blew air out of his nose like a frustrated horse might, and turning away from her.  
"She's right William," Apollyon said, "If you don't start crying I'll have to apply some less . . . humane tactics."

That concerned me due to the fact that I had concerned everything up to this point quite _in_humane.

Will responded by gracefully spitting at Apollyon's feet. Apollyon responded by snarling and striking Will across the forehead with the knife. Blood began absolutely pouring out of the cut, mixing with the blood of the design painted there. Will hissed through his teeth again, hunching over slightly in pain. He straightened back up again, making more hissing sounds. He was biting his lip so hard blood was welling up, his eyes began to well up with tears and I was under the impression that he was no longer trying not to cry. A few tears escaped his eyes, nothing like the torrent that had been streaming down my cheeks.

"That a boy," Apollyon said, seeming pleased as he mixed the sparse tears Will had produced with the blood marks on his cheeks. The result was two bloody, watered down stains on his face. The more viscous blood from his forehead was dripping down between his eyes and the sides of his face, streaming through the light blood stains on his cheeks.

In the back of my head, I couldn't help but vaguely think of how Will was a pretty crier. When most people cry, they sob and make faces and pitiful sounds. Will didn't do that; even when I broke up with him. Even now, with his face covered in blood, his crying was flattering. The tears made his eyes glisten but his expression remained dignified and strong. I looked nothing like that when I cried; I always looked like hell. But then again, Will had always managed to effortlessly make any action attractive.

At this point, he was just soaked in blood. His wrists were bleeding freely, covering his arms and hands. His neck was stained with blood from the bleeding gashes on the underside of his jaw. The cut on his forehead and the one on the side of his face were bleeding the most though. He should have been in worse shape than me, what with all the cuts and blood. Yet he seemed to be faring better than me. He wasn't sobbing and didn't look like he was about to pass out like I had.

Apollyon released Will's wrists and when he didn't collapse, he pushed him onto the floor. He remained there, blinking, his face expressionless as he wiped some of the blood off his forehead. He looked over at me, and the blank expression fell from his face. He bit his lip and his eyes filled with pain, pain that he apparently hadn't felt as Apollyon brutalized him. But the second he saw that I was hurt, he appeared to be in agony. I wanted to cry; I wasn't sure if it was from the love Will obviously felt for me, or the fact that he was so desensitized from pain.

"All right, Jezebeth, Azazel," Marshal said, heading for the back room, "You two complete the next task while I go prepare the pentagram."  
Well that was just not something I wanted to hear right then. Not only were we being tortured, but soon, they were going to perform some demonic ritual on us.

"With pleasure," Azazel hissed. He, along with Jezebeth, arose from their chairs and prowled over to us, cruel smiles on their faces. Azazel crouched down and picked up the bloody knife that Apollyon had left there. He turned it around in his hands a few times, examining it with interest.

"Jezebeth," he said, "Go grab a glass from the back room, will you?"  
"Alright," she said, and although she didn't seem pleased about following Azazel's orders, she went back into the same room Apollyon disappeared into. Now the only Shadow Person remaining in this room was Azazel.

"I never thought I could hate you more than I did," I managed to say in a hoarse voice, "But it turns out that I can."  
He glanced at me and smiled a small little smile. "I'm not the one who did that to you," he told me pleasantly, pointing at me with his knife, most likely referring to my many wounds.

"You didn't stop it either," I argued. I longed to stand up but I knew it wasn't a good idea.  
"Neither did Will," he pointed out, "And I don't see you exchanging harsh words with him."

"If he could have, he would have," I said in my gravely, weak voice, "Will loves me."  
Azazel didn't respond to that, he just rolled his eyes and toyed with the knife in his hands some more.

Gaining a little more of my voice back, I straightened my back a little. "There was a time when I thought you loved me too."  
"You thought what I wanted you to think," he said with a shrug, not looking at my direction.

"When I thought you loved me," I went on, "I didn't hate you as much. I hated you yes, but I just thought you were mentally unsound. I thought you loved me and didn't know how to deal with it the right way. I hated you, but I didn't blame you for the things you did to me. But now . . . Knowing you faked it all. That everything you did to me you did for your own gain and sadistic pleasure . . . Well, I've never hated anyone more."

He opened his mouth to say something but Jezebeth's voice came out. "Well isn't that a lovely little monologue." I looked up and saw her emerging from the back room, two chalices in her hands. I couldn't justly call them glasses. They were to ornate. They looked like a gothic version of what the Holy Grail supposedly looked like. Instead of being gold, each cup was black, and instead of being ruby incrested, it was decorated in bright emeralds that matched the sinister green of the Shadow People's eyes.

Jezebeth carried them over to Azazel and handed one to him. He nodded to her and instead of heading towards me like I expected him to do he went over to Will and crouched down in front of him. Jezebeth however, did come over to me. I tried to see what Azazel was doing to Will, but Jezebeth was not only blocking my view, but distracting me.

"Guess what goes in here," she purred maliciously, smirking a smirk that was all teeth. Like a shark's. "Go on, guess." I said nothing and didn't even try to scramble away. I'd never been one to just sit around and let things happen, but I also wasn't one to be an idiot. I knew trying to run was pointless.

"Well you're no fun," she pretended to pout but it didn't work out to well. She was grinning to much. She crouched down in front of me and lifted my arm up, bending it at the elbow. She placed the cup against the inside of my forearm, pressing deeply into my skin so that the blood dripping down from my wrist flowed into the cup. My eyes went wide. When people put things in cups, it usually meant that someone was meant to drag it. I could literally feel the color drain out of my face, or that could just be the blood loss.

She did this for about a minute before moving to the other arm. I counted in my head the seconds to keep from thinking anymore of what she was doing. I got to thirty seven before she stopped. She grinned at me again before getting to her feet in a bouncy, lithe movement. With her out of the way I could see Azazel and Will better. I assumed that Azazel had also drawn Will's blood into the cup. Will seemed unfazed, as was his default expression as of late, but beneath the blood I could see that his cheeks were paler.

"Up and at 'em William," Azazel chirped in his increasingly aggravating accent, grabbing Will by his bloody wrists, causing him to wince slightly, and pulling him to his feet. Will didn't sway or show any sides of fainting. I was sure that if I was attempting to stand, I'd soon after fall over.

Azazel guided Will over to the chair in the center of the room and sat him down, none too lightly. Jezebeth bounced over, the chalice of my blood in her hand.  
"Thirsty Billy?" she thrummed, giggling as she swooshed the blood around in the cup for emphasis.

Will didn't show any signs of shock, so it seemed safe to bet that he'd assumed the same thing I'd assumed. That they were going to make us drink each other's blood.

"C'mon now, open up," she purred. Will automatically pressed his lips together, as any normal person would do when presented with the possibility of being forced to drink human blood. Jezebeth shook her head indulgently at him and pressed a manicured finger to his bottom lip. She pried his mouth open with her one finger with ease. I attributed that to the fact that Will had lost a considerable amount of blood and therefore was weaker than usual. He could put on all the airs he wanted. But everybody had their limits. They could only take so much. Even Will.

She placed the cup to his lips and I had to look away. I just couldn't bear to watch. My stomach was rolling and I probably would have vomited if there had been anything in my stomach to vomit up. I swallowed the small amount of bile that rose in my throat and winced. I wanted to look, just out of natural concern for Will. But I couldn't. The thought of someone drinking my blood . . . It was almost as disgusting as the idea of drinking someone else's blood.

When I heard the sound of someone hitting the floor I instinctually looked up. Will was out of the chair and was now on all fours on the flour. He was retching and gagging and coughing up small amounts of blood. My heart went out to him even if my body was to weak to go to him. My poor Will. He didn't deserve this. I'd have rather drink ten gallons of blood, enough to give myself iron poisoning, than see Will have to go through something like that. After all, we all knew he was the Luma and I was the Umbra. He was the good one. He didn't deserve this.

"Harder to keep down than Gin then eh?" Azazel teased and him and Jezebeth cackled about it. Will coughed some more before moving into a sitting position, though he kept his hands firmly against the floor, bracing himself. Now that I could see his face I could see that it was ashen. Will had always been pale but never this pale. His lips, in contrast, were a dark maroon color, stained in my blood. He wiped a shaky hand across the back of his mouth, wiping off some of it.

"You're up Princess," Jezebeth sneered, handing the cup of my blood to Azazel before coming over to me and dragging me to my feet. I swayed considerably and nearly fell. To my displeasure, she had to support me and basically ended up throwing me in the chair. Will watched on with pained, helpless eyes.

I clamped my lips shut and looked up at Azazel, where stood in front of me. He gave me a look, raising an eyebrow, a look clearly meant _'you're not seriously going to try and fight me, are you?' _I realized quickly that he was right. Fighting had gotten me nowhere thus far, why would it suddenly start working now? Unless Will or I came up with a plan before the rituals end, we'd most likely have to wait until we regained our strength before trying to escape.

I opened my mouth in defeat and Azazel placed the rim of the cup to my lips. The metal felt cold against my mouth but it was soon replaced by the warm sensation of blood as Azazel tilted the cup back. It tasted terrible. Like rotten metal; if that makes sense. The metalicy flavor made me feel like I was sucking on a penny. And it was bitter - nearly unbearably so.

If this was what sweetheart Will's blood tasted like, I didn't even want to know what other people's blood must taste like.

Everyone's tasted blood before; usually their own of course. When you bite your lip or lose a tooth or suck on a paper cut. To a human, it doesn't typically taste good. Not bad, but not good. Primarily because it's such a small amount. When you drink blood in large quantities . . . It's horrible. The worst thing I'd ever tasted. It burned like acid or Vodka on its way down my throat and the flavor was unbearable.

I tried to push Azazel away, so he'd stop forcing this poison down my throat. But he acted as if my shoving didn't faze him, and just pressed the cup harder against my lips. It took so long to drink it all. It was so viscous and difficult to swallow. But I managed, somehow. And when he last drop was gone he finally pulled the chalice away, releasing me.

I threw myself out of the chair and hit the ground on my knees. I pitched forward and dry wretched, coughing out bits of blood, just like Will had. My stomach was rolling like the tides and every few seconds I felt a wave of intense nausea that made me sure I was about to throw up. But it always ended up turning into dry gagging and retching. I coughed a wet, sickly cough for a while, completely unaware and uncaring of what was transpiring around me.

When the coughing ceased I lifted my head and saw Will. He was no more than a foot from me. This was the closest he'd been to me since this ceremony began. Now I could see how bad he looked. His face was death pale beneath the blood and I was able to see that his cheeks were flushed. Much more darkly than I'd expect after all the blood he'd lost. Although, he no longer appeared to be bleeding. All his wounds seemed to have clotted, but still, he was drenched in his own blood. His white shirt was stained with droplets of it, so was his hair. His bangs were matted with the blood from his forehead, the ceremonial feathers in his hair hanging limply, several of them dotted with blood.

But that wasn't really what I was seeing. I was seeing Will. I wasn't seeing the grim set of his mouth, I was seeing the lips that had kissed me and spread into the most perfect smile; the lips that had spoken the words 'I love you' to me. I wasn't seeing the cuts on his wrists, I was seeing the arms that had held me when I laughed and held me when I cried. I wasn't seeing the blood on his hands, I was seeing the hands that had touched me sensually and wiped away my tears. I wasn't seeing eyes framed in lashes that had teardrops clinging to them, I was seeing the only pair of eyes that had ever really seen _me._

I wasn't seeing the pain or the despair. I couldn't see any of that. I could only see Will.

_"I love you_," I sent, staring into his eyes.  
_"I'm sorry," _he sent back, staring into my eyes as well.

_"This isn't your fault."__  
_"_It doesn't matter. I'm getting us out of here. I'm getting you out." _

_"I'll love you even if you don't," _I promised.  
_"I will_," he sent, his mental voice fierce.

Just then there was a faint sound of something metal hitting the floor. It was a slight noise, but it sounded like thunder for some reason. We both broke the connection and turned around, towards the sound of the door. We stared at the door, along with Azazel and Jezebeth. On the floor in front of the door was the bolt that had been holding it close.

The next sound was the door hitting the wall behind it as it was thrown open.


	47. Forsaken Girl

**Forsaken Girl**

Comparing your savior to an avenging angel is cliché and outdated, and in this case, inaccurate.. Standing in the artificial glow of the hallway, Xana looked more like some sort of secret agent from a spy movie, dressed in her evening wear and brandishing a pistol in one hand. Her face, framed by her colorful hair, was absolutely bloodthirsty. She really looked like a vampire.

"Xana," Jezebeth hissed from off to the side, venom in her voice and the bloody chalice in her hands. She didn't seem surprised, but she certainly didn't seem pleased. Her gaze flickered over to Will who had just pulled himself to his feet. He stood rather unsteadily, blood drenching his person. His lips, stained scarlet, were spread into a stunning smile. Not his usual, happy, sunlight-streaming-through-the-clouds smile though. This smile was smug and wicked and seemed totally alien on his usually sweet face.

"You summoned her, didn't you William?" Jezebeth demanded, "I'm rather impressed I must say. I wasn't aware that your telepathic powers were so refined."  
"They're not," he said, grinning wickedly as he pulled something out of his pocket. He raised his clenched fist before dropping the item on to the floor. It landed with a clank. It was his cellphone.

I immediately thought back to when Apollyon had been slicing up my arms. Will had been tucked away in the corner, his head down. I'd thought it'd been because he couldn't bare to watch. I realized now that that was what he wanted everyone to think. He hadn't been cowering. He'd been texting Xana.

"How anticlimactic," Azazel commented dryly.  
"Only fools take the time to be theatrical," Xana snarled, speaking for the first time as she lifted her gun, "For instance, I could have come in here swinging Excalibur and challenged you to a duel to the death. But it seemed much easier to just pump you full of lead."

"Shoot me," Jezebeth dared in her little girl voice. "Go ahead. Shoot your best friend."  
"You must've thought I was pretty stupid," Xana said levelly, "To ever believe that _you_ were Little Lyn."

Jezebeth shrugged, giving up the facade quite quickly. "How did you know?" she asked curiously.  
"Those devil eyes gave you away," she hissed.

"Fair enough," Jezebeth agreed, her green eyes flashing even brighter for an instance, "But it doesn't change anything. I may not be Little Lyn but to get me out of her body, you'll have to kill her first. And we both know that you can't do that."

"You're wrong," Xana snarled, cocking the pistol, "I'd do anything get you out of Little Lyn. It's what she'd want. She'd rather be dead than your puppet."  
"Then do it," Jezebeth challenged, spreading her arms, "Shoot me." She looked confident, but Azazel, on the other hand, didn't seem nearly as sure. He glanced nervously at the door Apollyon had disappeared through.

Xana looked ill. She had tears in her eyes and goose bumps on her arms. But despite all that, her expression was determined. She was going to do it.  
"I hope you burn in hell for what you've made me do," she cried as she pulled the trigger.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once. Xana fired the gun, the doors at the back flew open and Apollyon appeared, and Jezebeth fell to the floor with a scream. I watched on in shock from my position on the floor as blood began to stain the midsection of Jezebeth's dress and pool around her. She continued to howl in agony as she curled in on herself.

She was at my level now, and I could see that her eyes were clenched together in pain as she screamed. But all of a sudden, she went still as the screams cut off abruptly. Her eyes snapped open, glowing that poisonous green color. They were unfocused and staring at nothing for a moment.

Everyone was dead silent as a black, smokey substance began to ooze out of her body, seeping through her pores, hovering in the air around her. It began to gather together next to her until it created the silhouette of a woman. And with a popping sound, the shadow woman became more feasible.

She still didn't look quite like a real person though. She looked kind of like a cross between a ghost and a shadow. She had more volume than a shadow, but didn't have enough definition to pass for what most pictured a ghost as. She looked like the shadows I'd seen around Azazel in the past; smokey, inky, figures that seemed like clouds of black smog. Except this one looked like a real woman. She had facial features, a willowy body, a gown on, and long hair. Everything about her was black and shadowy, like a phantom. Except for her eyes. They were emerald and green and seemed as real as any pair of eyes I'd ever seen.

It was Jezebeth. The _real_ Jezebeth. She'd come out of Little Lyn's body.

But Little Lyn wasn't dead yet, I realized. Her screaming had started up again once Jezebeth was out of her. But it sounded different; not quite so high pitched and bird like. This scream was slightly rougher, a little more boyish, and was full of anguish. She started to thrash about and when her eyes opened briefly I saw that they were no longer that sickly green, but instead were a natural looking, light brown.

"I couldn't take it anymore!" came the voice I was used to hearing come out of Little Lyn's mouth, but was now coming from the Shadow Woman. "It hurt too much!"  
"You fool!" Apollyon shouted at her, "Do you realized what you've done? If you don't have a host body, we cannot complete the ritual! We need three!"

"Do not fret Apollyon," she soothed him, "I know just what to do." And then the shadow woman seemed to collapse in on herself, turning into one of those shapeless shadows. She plowed through the air almost too fast for my eyes to follow. She crashed into Xana and then dissolved into her. Xana closed her eyes and went rigid all over.

When her eyes flew open again, they were glowing green.

"Fuck!" I cursed under my breath. That was the problem with having another Blood Angel come save us. If they forced the Shadow People out of one body, they could just inhabit theirs. It was an endless cycle. If only we had a human to help us. After all, Azazel had said it himself; Shadow People couldn't possess humans. But of course, Will would never drag his human friends into this. I didn't blame him. I wouldn't either.

Jezebeth smirked, admiring her new form. "Well I rather like this switch," came her voice from Xana's lips, "It's so delightful to be tall again." She lifted the gun in her hand and examined it as well. "And now I have a glock as well. I must say, this was a splendid idea on my part."

Little Lyn began howling again and every pair of evil green eyes in the room flashed to her in annoyance. I could tell they were all thinking the same thing. _"Time to dispose of this pest." _Jezebeth lifted the gun again.

Will, who had been standing and silent, was suddenly in action. He ran in front of Jezebeth, blocking her view of Little Lyn. He was swaying slightly, but he stood his ground; his grey eyes as turbulent as the stormy sea, his jaw set as blood dripped off of it. He looked like a force to be reckoned with, oddly enough.

"Move aside Billy boy," Jezebeth advised lightly in her sneering, patronizing voice that grated my nerves like nails on a blackboard.  
"No," he snarled, backing up so that he was stepping in the puddle of blood surrounding the screaming Little Lyn. "I won't let you kill her."

"Oh?" Jezebeth inquired, pointing the gun at me, "Would you rather I kill Amunet instead?" What blood remained in my body went cold. Goosebumps spread out over my skin and sweat beaded at the back of my neck. My heart was slamming away fearfully in my chest as I stared down the barrel of that gun.

"You're bluffing," Will said with confidence.  
"What makes you think so?" Jezebeth inquired.

"You need us both alive," he said simply, "To complete the ritual."  
"Forget it Jezebeth," Apollyon finally spoke in his deep authorities voice, "We don't have time for games. It's nearly midnight. Just take the girl and put her in the back room. Gag her or something."

"Fine," Jezebeth sighed unhappily, lowering the gun. She placed it on one of the arm chairs as she passed, probably so she wouldn't be tempted to use it. She tried to approach Little Lyn but Will blocked her way. Now that she was in Xana's body, Jezebeth was just as tall as him. She smirked at him, obviously enjoying her new height.

"Come on William, I already promised not to hurt your little friend," she sighed, seeming bemused but also exasperated.  
He held his ground in silence. His fists were clenched tightly and his jaw was firm but he was trembling slightly all over. It didn't escape Jezebeth's notice.

"Besides, I don't think you can afford to waste anymore strength, standing here. Do you?" she inquired, patting his cheek lightly. It couldn't have hurt, but he flinched. He didn't make a sound as he stepped aside and allowed Jezebeth access to the screaming girl on the floor, writhing around in a pool of her own blood. She appeared to still be bleeding and I couldn't help but worry how much longer she would last without medical attention.

Jezebeth picked up the bloody girl as if she weighed nothing and carried her into the back room. Once they were gone Apollyon spoke, "Well now that all that's over with, let's proceed with the ritual." I noticed that in his hands he had a paint brush and a bucket of some clear substance.

"So we're just going to act as if they hadn't attempted to organize an escape plan?" Azazel demanded, seeming flustered.  
"Well did you expect them to be enjoying themselves?" Apollyon countered as he thrust the bucket and paint brush at him. "The point is, they didn't escape. No harm, no foul. Now let's get a move on. It's nearly time."

Azazel grumbled to himself as he began to trace a large shape on the floor in the center of the room with the clear substance. Apollyon smiled faintly, pleased with himself as he went over to the door and put the deadbolt back in place. Will and I both watched them with wide, traumatized eyes. I imagined that we were both thinking the same thing; _what are we going to do?_

"William," Apollyon said, "Why don't you take a seat. You're not well enough to stand."  
I had to agree with him there. Will looked like hell, although I doubted I looked any better. But at least I wasn't pushing myself by moving. My wounds had stopped bleeding but Will had agitated some of his with all his moving around. Not to mention he really didn't have the strength standing required at the moment. He was shaking all over from the effort. Despite Apollyon's suggestion, he didn't move. He looked like he was caught in a bad dream. I could relate.

"Will," I managed. My voice was dry and hoarse. I barely recognized it as my own.  
He looked over at me, blinking, as if my voice had woken him up from his trance. "What?" he asked. It sounded painfully normal.

"Why don't you sit down," I suggested.  
He looked around briefly before finally taking my advice and sinking to the floor, right in a puddle of Little Lyn's blood. He didn't seem to mind. I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd looked like he was about to pass out a second ago and if he did, he could hit his head or something. He was hurt badly enough, he didn't need any more injuries.

We both sat there, staring at each other from across the room. Apollyon had settled back into his chair, seeming impatient but pleased. Azazel was still painting with the clear paint, all over the floor. I was too tired to keep track of what it might be a picture of. Jezebeth reappeared from the back room, smirking as she took her seat. I noticed that I could no longer hear Little Lyn screaming. I hoped that it was because Jezebeth had gagged her and not because she was dead. Will wouldn't be able to handle that. I hadn't even known her and I wasn't sure _I'd_ be able to handle it.

"Well aren't you quite the little artist Azazel," Jezebeth teased, watching him paint.  
He growled. "Why I've tolerated you all these years I haven't a clue."

"Oh come off it. We both know you love me," she went on.  
He snorted. "Like a lion loves the wildebeest it feeds off of."

She rolled her eyes. "If you don't love me then why were you so upset when I got expelled from that Blood Angel's body before?"  
He didn't look up from his work when he answered, "Because we need you to perform the ritual. I've explained this already. I love you like the lion loves the wildebeest it feeds off of. I need you to sustain myself, but I could care less whether you live or die."

She seemed offended. "Once we gain our bodies, I do believe I will deliver a swift kick to your manhood," she said delicately.  
"In which case I'll response with a swift kick to _your_ manhood," he retorted, "You are actually a man, aren't you?"

Jezebeth jumped to her feet angrily, looking like she was about to lunge at Azazel, but Apollyon stopped her. "Knock it off," he growled, "Both of you. Goodness, you're both more childish than the Luma or the Umbra, who are both merely sixteen, might I remind you."

"Actually, I'm seventeen," Will spoke up, sounding more normal than he did previously.  
"Practically old enough to be collecting social security," Jezebeth muttered sarcastically, throwing herself back in her chair.

"Well how old are you?" Will asked, his voice making the question a challenge.  
She snorted. "Let's put it this way. I was there when the Hanging Gardens of Babylon were no more than a bunch of flower seeds on a staircase."

Will stared at her. "You of all people should know that clever little references like that are totally lost on me. It's not like I pay attention during history class. I'm stoned half the time, as you should already know, considering you regularly pushed drugs down my throat when you were pretending to be Little Lyn."

"I _had_ to pretend to be Little Lyn," she said with a shrug and a smug smirk. "That way I could try and seduce you. And if you fully succumbed to my advances than I'd know you weren't really in love with Amunet."

Ahh. It made a little more sense now. Azazel had possessed August to test me, and Jezebeth had possessed Little Lyn to test Will. It was sick, but at least it made sense.

"I get that," Will said, "What I don't get is why, when I didn't succumb, you decided it'd be cool to slip me drugs and fuck me."  
I felt my stomach roll a little at that. I really didn't want to think of anybody, least of all Jezebeth, 'fucking' Will.

"Oh honey," Jezebeth said, in a pitying tone, "You don't realize just how delicious you are, do you?" She clucked her tongue and looked at me. "You really hit the jackpot with this one. Usually the really gorgeous ones come with a magnificent ego to match their magnificent bodies."

Will looked appalled. Under other circumstances, this would've been amusing. Will always found it weird when women obsessed over him and seemed to think that everybody received the same special treatment he did. He didn't realize that normal people didn't have strangers buying them drinks or offering them rides or inviting them places. He didn't realize just how good looking he was.

"Shut the fuck up," Will snarled. It was weird to hear him sound so vicious.  
"_Somebody_ needs to learn how to take a compliment," she clucked reprimandingly.

Will glared at her heatedly from under his bloody, tangled bangs. "That was _not_ a compliment," he snarled. I was surprised by how pissed and passionate he was about this. I mean, didn't we have bigger problems than a little sexual harassment?

"Most people consider being praised for your looks a compliment," Jezebel said. Apollyon, from where he sat next to her, rolled his eyes dramatically. He met my eyes and gave me a look that one man might give to another when their wives were prattling away endlessly about something stupid. It was a look that said _"what are we going to do with these two?" _I returned it with a look that said _"go fuck yourself you asshole." _

"I don't," he said sharply. I didn't understand why he was getting so offended.  
"Hmmm, you're oddly sensitive about your looks aren't you?" she inquired.

"If anyone should be sensitive about their looks it's you," I snapped angrily, tired of her baiting Will, "For fuck's sake you're a shadow!"  
Jezebeth made a snarling noise, like a dog, and bared her square teeth at me. "You're really not in any position to be insulting people."

"Really?" I challenged, "You're going to kill me sooner or later, what does it matter if I'm rude?"  
"It may be sooner rather than later," she growled the threat.

"Whatever," I said, my voice raising in volume and pitch as I angrily threw my hands in the air, "It's not like manners are going to do me any good in hell."  
Jezebeth opened her mouth to snarl another snipe but Apollyon stopped her. "Enough Jezebeth."

She looked disappointed. "But -,"  
"Done!" Azazel cut her off, jumping lithely to his feet in the manner of a cat or some other agile creature.

"Excellent," purred Apollyon, getting regally to his feet, "Now I hope you two are ready for your own bodies. Because this is the last time you'll ever inhabit a Blood Angel ever again. The last time you'll ever have to be a leech inside another person's body. The last time you have to pretend. Because tonight, we become real."


End file.
